


Favourite Worst Nightmare

by malacihte



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gang World, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, But also, Drama & Romance, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron), Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Trans Female Pidge | Katie Holt, i think at least
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2018-11-30 01:04:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11452758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malacihte/pseuds/malacihte
Summary: Facts:1. Alteans and Galras are two different gangs.2. Alteans and Galras are sworn enemies.3. An Altean and a Galra could never become friends or anything more than that.4. Lance is an Altean.5. Keith is a Galra.in which lance and keith spend too much time in a 50s diner and end up turning fact three to fiction. secrets are kept, a jukebox plays constantly, montagues and capulets are reborn and rivalries cut sharp.





	1. come around

**Author's Note:**

> a/n: so this is basically a full fic of my oneshot 'greet me with goodbye' it'll go through what happened before and after the contents of that oneshot. if you've read it that's great!! if you haven't you don't need to bc although this fic follows the same au the oneshot isn't exact to where im going w this. anyways this was pre fun to write so i hope yall enjoy it!! 
> 
> (hoping this will be 9 or 10 chapter long) 
> 
> Basically an angsty gang au that can also be surprisingly sweet at time. 
> 
> _the parallel universe perhaps could be the perfect scene_  
>  he’s nearing the brink but he thinks first the parallel,  
> i think you should know you’re his favourite worst nightmare  
> d is for dangerous . arctic monkeys

In the back of his mind Keith knew he shouldn't be out this late all alone. It might've been the ghosts who put him on edge with their whispers as they roamed around his apartment that he lived in with his other gang members. Or the fact that the walls were thin and Rolo and his girlfriend couldn't be quiet no matter how many times Keith had hit their shared wall to tell them to  _shut up_. In the end he had been suffocated enough by the scent of blood and burning that always seemed to linger.

So he'd left through the window and down the fire escape into the night, the cool air trickling down his skin creating goosebumps as he realized he should've brought a jacket. The outside, though an upgrade wasn't much better. Keith choked on the smell of smoke wafting off cigarettes held between the fingers of crowds of people outside clubs and bars. He walked straight past them, the thumping music coming from the inside of said night clubs and bars clashing in his head. Every face he saw was a blur under the neon lights from the various signs. They cast harsh shadows onto the skin of giggling girls, and boys trying too hard to look cool causing them to be illuminated in pinks, red, greens and blues reminding Keith of aliens. He followed the peeling posters that decorated every wall he saw all the way to Coran's diner. It was the dark spot among the street, there were no loitering groups around it or lines of adults trying to get in. Keith was safe here, away from his prison like apartment and away from the aliens.

He swung open the door entering the diner, he quickly scanned the area. From what he could see all the booths with their bright red seats were empty, the jukebox in the corner was silent and the only person in the diner was Coran wiping glasses behind the bar. Keith let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, glad that the place was empty. It was quiet and that was all Keith wanted. Coran was watching him with a raised eyebrows. "It's five minutes 'till closing time you know," he said.

"You've never kicked me out of here before," Keith pointed out. He walked to the bar and took a seat on one of the stools.

"True," Coran agreed, "but if you're going to stay make yourself useful and help clean." He handed him a glass and damp cloth which Keith took. "What brings you here tonight then?"

Keith shrugged, putting down his clean glass and grabbing another to wipe from the counter. "I hate being in the apartment," he said, simply and it was the truth.

He hated the white walls and the darts that were buried in them, he hated the loud music that played from their old radio, he hated the messy kitchen and the guns hidden underneath the beat up couch they'd found on the side of the road. He hated almost everyone who he lived with and they hated him right back. The apartment was far from the definition from a home, it was coated in black tar sticky and dripping from the ceilings covering Keith and causing him to be stuck in apartment no matter how much he wanted to leave.

"So you've said," Coran sighed, "I wish you kids could just leave." Keith caught his sad smile as Coran turned away to rearrange the bottles on the shelves behind him.

Keith's grip on the glass he held tightened, he half wanted to break it and watch the tiny cracks begin fracturing it until it's crumbled shards fell into his open hand. "It's not that easy for me. I don't have the option of getting out the way you did," he said, trying hard to keep the accusation out of his tone. Immediately after saying it he felt guilty. The way Coran had gotten out  _had_ been hard and terrible. Coran didn't mention it though.

"I know," was all he said. Keith could tell he was reminiscing on his gang days. Coran had been apart of one of the most notorious back before Keith had been born, he'd been the right hand man with the leader Alfor. They ruled what could be called a kingdom, with their gleaming crowns and thrones—they played dirty like any other gang but had enough morals to be respected. They'd had it all. The ichor in their veins and the gold in their hearts, creating hurricanes with their every step. Except every kingdom falls, and their's fell hard.

Keith hadn't bothered to remember the details but he knew the gist of the story. Alfor's wife had died first, shot in a parking lot by a Galra. Dead body left cold on the ground, bleeding out in the gravel. She wasn't found until the next morning. It started something of a war between the two gangs, Alteans VS Galra. Fights breaking out in the city wasn't foreign to anyone who lived here but the moment this rivalry started it got much worst. Brawls and shootings became much more frequent which in turn created countless arrests. Keith hadn't been born yet during the time but he had heard enough of Coran's stories to know how terrible it had been, streams of blood like decorations in the streets. Alfor had been the last Altean to die before the Galra had completely taken over the territory. The Alteans that had managed to survive were either behind bars or joined the Galra too.

Except Coran, he'd escaped with Allura who had only been a baby at the time. Alfor had given him the record store he owned and all the money he had left so Coran could buy the diner and raise Allura. Coran had done what he could to keep Allura away from gangs but she eventually learned her origin story. To no one's surprise she became angry and vengeful, enough so that she rebuilt the Alteans with ex members who'd got out of jail and new members as well. The Alteans weren't the golden kingdom they were way back when but she'd brought enough respect back to the title for them to be dangerous again.  Keith knew Coran hated the fact Allura had become apart of that lifestyle, he blamed himself for not protecting her enough—that's why he let Keith, someone who he should have hated since he was part of the Galra, and any other sad teen gang member take refuge in his diner. Coran's diner was everyone's safe spot. Keith assumed it was a little comfort to Coran that even if he couldn't protect Allura he could protect someone.

"I need to clean up the kitchen, you keep at it with those glasses," Coran said. He slipped out behind the bar and left through the kitchen doors. Keith thought of going after him since he was probably thinking more about Allura than cleaning the kitchen but decided against it. Coran probably wanted time alone. Keith continued to clean the glasses, one after another. He enjoyed the silence of the diner, glad he was out of his loud apartment. It was safe here.

It stayed still like that for a bit until he heard the door opened, he flinched in surprise almost dropping the glass he was holding. No one came here at this time, it was past closing time by now.  _Why would anyone come here now?_ Coran didn't invite people after hours, Keith would've known if he was being followed but still he'd heard someone walk through the doors. Keith got prepared to tell some wayward drunk teenager that the diner wasn't open and that they needed to leave, he set down his cloth on the counter and turned to see the person.

"Listen, I'm sorry but the diners clo—"

It was a boy, his knuckles were bruised and bleeding, his lip split but for some reason he still managed to grin. Red and purple blotches were splattering his cheekbone, dark jeans ripped showing off knees with torn skin. Dark brown hair messed up and sticking up at odd angles. Keith felt caught up in an storm that had never been forecasted. Battered boys weren't supposed to stumble into Coran's diner late at night. They definitely weren't supposed to look so proud of themselves. He looked too calm, too collected to be painted in scrapes and bruises. "I'm not a customer," he said.

"I can see that now," Keith observed, initial surprise disappearing as he stood up from his stool. Though he made no effort to move any closer to the other boy, leaning back against the bar he opted to analyze him instead. His brown skin shone almost golden in the light, freckles littered across his nose—his face was long and boyish. He carried a collection of piercing, two above his right eyebrow, a couple down the cartilage of his right ear and snake bites underneath bruised ruby lips that were pulled up into a grin showing off white teeth. Maybe it was just the sheer shock Keith'd been in when the boy waltzed into the diner or the effortlessness in his demeanour but the guy put Keith on edge. Whoever he was he brought rain.

"Aren't you gonna help?" he asked, "I'm a guy in pain." His words and the wounds on his skin didn't match his tone, he seemed to be finding this more amusing than anything. There was almost a trace of challenge in his voice.

"Who are you?" Keith asked.

There was a slight change in his expression before he quickly composed himself, "You don't know me?"

"No I don't," Keith frowned. He's certain he's never seen him before. Though he didn't have the best memory when it came to faces anyways but he's sure he would've remembered his face, he wasn't likely to forget it now.

The boy's grin faded, "Better you didn't then."

Keith was about to ask him what he meant by that when the kitchen door creaked open revealing Coran. "What's all the noise about?"

He took one sweeping glance at the scene around him, eyes finally landing on the boy across from Keith. Keith watched Coran's eyes widen in surprise before it changed into disappointment. Coran shook his head, "I thought you promised me that you wouldn't get into fights anymore if you couldn't help it Lance."

The boy—Lance, Keith knew his name now, sucked on his split lip. He reminded Keith of a child who'd just been caught using his magnifying glass to burn the wings off butterflies."I—I know Coran," he stumbled on his words and Keith almost felt bad for him, "but that's the thing. It couldn't be helped. The guy he was saying these—these terrible things about Nyma—fucking coward couldn't even say it to her face. I wasn't going to just stand there and do nothing, what kinda friend would I be then? So I took matters into my hands, um literally." He held out his hands to show Coran his bleeding knuckles. Lance talked like he had too many words in his mouth, Keith noticed. Like he had too many thoughts and sentences he had to get out all at once, as if he was overflowing with them.

Coran sighed, "Couldn't you have thought of a better way to deal with the problem?"

"No—maybe," Lance said, "probably, I don't know Coran. I'm trying alright?" Keith knew the way Lance was looked. He'd experienced it too many times himself, the feeling of being completely lost, claws squeezing your heart until it bursts, desperately reaching to be  _better_. To be good. Just enough so when you look the mirror you can ignore the sharp white fangs in your mouth where teeth should be, so you don't have to face the vines tangled around you so tightly they cut into your flesh until your broken. Keith had given up on trying, he looked in the mirror and he was numb. He let himself burn.

When Keith turned to Coran now he didn't see the disappointment he'd originally worn but something so much more sickly. Sadness and care, softness and vulnerability. Keith couldn't remember the last time he'd had that. What he had was dented walls from punching too hard, knives shoved underneath his mattress that slowly carved into him and scars decorating his chest. He had his name reduced to a curse, " _Keith,"_ laced with venom when people said it as if he was nothing but a problem to them. He found bullets in his cereal and shattered glass where he stepped. He didn't know what care was, vulnerability had been kicked out of him until he coughed it out with blood and baby teeth.

"I know Lance," Coran walked over to him and put a hand on his shoulder. Keith felt like he was intruding on something personal, he wasn't sure if he should leave or not. "Now, you need to get fixed up. Med-kit's in the kitchen and you know where the restroom is."

He let go of Lance but Lance stood frozen. Keith assumed he was surprised that he'd been let off the hook so easily and was questioning whether or not Coran was tricking him. "Go," Coran pushed, "I don't need you bleeding in my diner any more than you already have."

Lance hesitated a moment, let his mouth fall open then shut it again. Coran eyed him, expectantly. "I need help, it hurts to move my hands I won't be able to bandage myself," Lance mumbled. He seemed embarrassed to admit it.

"I'll help," Keith volunteered.  Lance was interesting and Keith was intrigued.

-

The familiar faces of Marylin Munroe, James Dean and Elvis Presley forever immortalized in the tin signs hanging on the walls greeted Lance back into their cold restroom. Their dead eyes stared at him while he washed his cuts with running water from the taps, quickly with no care. They followed him as he lowered himself onto the black and white tiles, sitting back against the counter of sinks. He stared at the closed red doors of the stalls. He couldn't even remember the amount of times he's sit on this same tile floor, med kit open beside him as he winded the cloth bandages around his skin as his blood seeped through them anyways. Enough times that he wouldn't be able to count them on his fingers, he guessed. Definitely too many.

He'd lied to Coran, he wasn't hurt enough that he couldn't fix himself. Bandaging his knuckles and icing his bruises, that was easy. He didn't need help but he'd asked anyways. All just to see what Keith would do and of course, he did the exact opposite to what Lance had expected.  _Keith_   _Kogane—_ Lance knew who he was through rumours and stories and glances within street races and bar fights. He was a Galra, one of their best fighters apparently. Lance had seen him before, loitering outside the corner shop with his friends, the smoke from their cigarettes clouding around him. He'd seen Keith in street races against his own gang, speeding down the open roads, turning the oxygen around him into gasoline. He'd seen him in the club, when his friends had gotten into a fight with Keith's friends. He watched Keith in the flashing lights the sound of shattering beer bottles faint in his ears because all he could see was  _him_.

He'd thought maybe in that moment he could grab Keith, while everyone else was distracted and take him out of the club, straight out the backdoor and talk to him. It had only been a far fetched idea of course, because that would never work—there would've been nothing to say. Being in rival gangs took all the words right out of your mouth and replaced them with curses and poison. Keith Kogane was the best of the best, joined the Marmora when he was only eleven years old, trained by the legend Takashi Shirogane. With his red leather jacket and custom knife and black hair pulled up in a ponytail. Lance couldn't deny, he was enticed but for all the wrong reasons.

Then there he was in right in front of the bar of the diner wiping Coran's glasses with a cloth, the jagged line insignia tattooed on his forearm on full display, reminding Lance of their places. He was ready for Keith to taunt and sneer. To land a punch at Lance's face and laugh while he stumbled backwards into one of the red vinyl seats as more bruises bloomed across his skin. He wouldn't have been surprised. Half of him had just wanted Keith to get it over with but it had never came.

There was no insult, scowl or punch. Keith had just watched him, eyes scanning his wounds and watching his every motion. It had put Lance on edge, making him feel as though a kick in the ribs would've been better. It took him a moment to figure out that Keith's less than reaction meant that he didn't know who Lance was, he didn't know they were enemies, he didn't know that they were supposed to hate each other. So Lance had taken the chance with open arms and didn't tell him. Keith didn't need to know he was an Altean so he wasn't going to tell him. He'd let it bubble inside him for now, trying not to picture Allura's fuming face if she found out that Lance was with a Galra. He just needed to know more about Keith and this was his shot.

Threading his fingers through the rips in his jeans, head leaned back on the cool surface of the counter cabinets, Lance waited. He shut his eyes and didn't open them when he heard the bathroom door creak open and the steps of Keith's boots on the tile floor. He felt Keith kneel in front of him, the clatter of the ever so trustworthy med kit fall beside him. Lance almost wanted it to be someone other than Keith when he opened his eyes so he wouldn't have to feel the heavy weight of guilt when he pretended not be himself.

"Look at me," Keith's voice said. "Are you scared or something?" Lance slowly opened his eyes, taking his time to see Keith. Collarbones to the slope of his neck up to his jaw, lips, nose, hair, eyes.

Lance had categorized every type of gang member he knew. To every gang there were two different kinds of leaders. The first were those with iron hearts, the ones with bodies built of stone. All muscles and veins, hands that could crush your heart to dust and laugh while doing it, the lions who cared about nothing but striking the first punch no matter what the circumstance. The second were the strategical ones, sharks and liars like Allura. Soft on the outside but a core of steel. The type who watched from behind for a while, studied your every move, memorized your schedule, figured out all your secrets and weak spots in one look until they pounced with speed you'd never have expected. Piercing you with their six inch heels. Both are too proud for their own good, both too obsessed with their own ideals.

Lance had met every type of their followers too. There was a hierarchy to them. Below the leaders were the best fighters. Either loud and boisterous and constantly bragging, showing off the blood on their hands like it was a medal or the quiet ones with sharp smiles, hidden in shadows. Next are the radioheads, they preferred the technicalities rather than the fight. Lookouts, trading, spies—all of their jobs. They had the information to answer every question. From there the roles got messy for him to pinpoint so he'd generalized everyone else into either useless and only there for numbers or mysteries to everyone. The uselesses were the type to always be drugged up, drunk or both, they were only there to fill up space. The mysteries had no stories, sometimes they were there other times they weren't—Lance wasn't sure what they're purpose was. Everyone Lance had ever met fell into one of the categories. Except for Keith.

Keith was a walking oxymoron. He was too sharp, edges too jagged. A volcano on the brink of explosion, the stillness before clouds of ash. A hardness underneath his eyes, far too much for a teenager. Lance knew people who would kill to be in Keith's position, fuck, he knew people who  _had_ killed to be in Keith position. Best fighter, best street racer, always winning, everyone's favourite. He had a purpose. But there was no blood thirst in Keith. Lance had seen him fight before, it looked like nothing more than a job to Keith. He didn't seem to get a kick out of it, he didn't look like he cared. No celebrations after, no bragging, not even a smirk. He hurt, he left. He burned.

Lance silently watched Keith take his hands as he examined the cuts, "Did you wash them?"

Keith was sharp. Flames that destroyed everything in his path without another look, he was a chaos in it's stillest form. Ridden with scowls and stone walls shielding him and yet his hands were soft. He was gentle, fingers barely brushing against Lance's wounds. Careful to his chaos. Keith Kogane had created his own category. The oxymoron, those with dark hair curling against pale skin.

"Obviously," Lance rolled his eyes, he pulled his hands away from Keith's and pushed the sleeves of his hoodie back down to cover his hands. Keith didn't reply, instead he rummaged through the med kit pulling things out and placing them by Lance.

Once he was done he turned back to Lance and handed him an ice pack."For your face," he said. He gestured to the bruises spanning over Lance's cheek. Lance took the ice pack letting the cold sting the palm of his hand, pressing the ice to his cheek he could feel the collision of the hotness of his bruises against the freezing of ice. Drops of water slid off the pack and down his face.

"Hand," Keith demanded. Lance shook down the sleeve of hoodie and let Keith take his right hand while he kept the ice held to his face with his left.

Keith grabbed the bandages and wrapped them around Lance's knuckles. The feeling of cloth was familiar to Lance's hands, like a second skin. He taped the bandage down before he reached for Lance's left hand. Lance quickly switched off the ice pack before letting Keith repeat the procedure again. Bandages wrapped around his knuckles and Keith's hands brushing against his skin. Lance watched Keith again, the fall of his bangs, his tongue sticking out slightly as he concentrated on cutting the bandage then taping it down.

"Take off your pants," Keith said, putting down Lance's freshly bandaged left hand. He switched the ice pack back to the original set up.

Lance blinked once before raising an eyebrow at Keith, "Fallen for me so quickly? I usually wait a bit longer before taking it that far."

Keith glared at him, "I can either turn your jeans into jorts with the scissors to get to the torn skin on your knees or you can make this easy and take off them off."

"You say it's for the torn skin but I see right through your excuse. I know you just wanna see these legs," Lance continued to tease. Flirting hadn't been written down in his original itinerary for the night but after letting his gaze linger along Keith's features he had come to the conclusion that he was attractive. Lance had no shame in admitting it and of course he wouldn't be himself if he didn't at least let a few suggestive phrases slip. Nonetheless he did obey, putting down the ice pack to pull down his pants, the air stung his bleeding knees and the rough fabric of his jeans colliding against the cuts didn't help but he managed to get them off.

"Like what you see Kogane?" Lance grinned.

Keith didn't answer instead he grabbed a towel from the med kit and stood up. For a second Lance thought Keith was leaving, there was an apology on the tip of his tongue. Then he heard the sound of running water from the taps.  _Right_ —he hadn't washed the cuts on his knees. Keith crouched back down a moment later with the damp towel. Lance was about to remind him that he hadn't answered his question when Keith brought down the towel to his knee. The soap stung against his open wounds and Lance couldn't help but flinch.

"Not particularly," Keith answered finally, removing the towel. He looked up at Lance, there was a glint in his eyes, a small smirk on the edge of his lips. Lance's stomach flipped and he wasn't not sure how to feel.

"Fuck you," Lance breathed out. He let his eyes shut as Keith went on to clean and bandage Lance's other knee. When he finished Lance pulled his jeans back on and Keith cleaned up the mess of the med kit.

"I'm gonna go put this back," Keith muttered just loud enough for Lance to hear. He left the bathroom, Lance didn't watch him go but he heard the door swinging shut. Lance pushed himself off the floor. He turned to the sinks, leaning on the counter to stare in the mirror. He looked bad, with dark circles under his eyes and the bruises ugly on his skin. The water from the melting ice pack glistening on his face in the bathroom lighting. He looked tired, he was tired. He wanted to go home to his room. He wanted to crash down onto his bed on his old Star Wars sheets. He wanted the comfort of his family being so close. He wanted to forget this entire night.

He wasn't going to let a night like this happen again. No more picking fights if he could help it, he'd try to keep his promise to Coran. And definitely no more Keith. When he left this diner and the door closed behind him on the red vinyl booths, they were in two separate gangs again—Lance would forget tonight, that's the plan. He got his wish, the information for his new gang member category. He didn't need anything more from Keith, pretty Keith with his careful hands and hard glares. Interesting as he was, being close to Keith was dangerous. One night in short proximity was enough.

Yet Lance knew he wanted more. He wanted to know more about famous Keith Kogane. There was too much to him. Lance was a people person, he liked having insights on everything there was to everyone, he liked learning the habits and quirks and flaws. When he saw Keith it was more than just a simple urge to learn, he saw wars and burning bridges and the curiosity in him to know more wasn't leaving. He put Lance on edge when his eyes scanned him, he made his stomach turn and Lance couldn't give a word to the feeling.

He wasn't looking at Keith behind a cloud of smoke billowing off the cigarettes of his friends cigarettes in front of the corner shop, he was talking to him now. He didn't want to give that up. Lance gripped the edge of the counter.  _Rival gangs._  He tried to remind himself. He tried to picture the jagged insignia tattooed on Keith's forearm ripping a trench between them, he tried to remember Allura's poisonous words of hatred for the Galra dripping from her tongue, he tried to pull up any means of logic. The barrier between them heavy in his mind, sinking in his chest, burying him in 'what if's?'

Except  _Keith didn't know_  Lance realized. He didn't know that Lance was supposed to be his rival, he didn't know anything. He wasn't going to leave the diner and just forget what had happened the way Lance was. If Keith didn't know and Lance didn't say anything he could buy them more time. He looked back into the mirror, staring into his own eyes as if daring himself to do what he was thinking. Pushing back off the counter he left the bathroom and the disappointed eyes of the 70s stars hanging from the walls. He walked back into the diner to find Keith sitting crisscross on top of the bar counter, head leaned back towards the red rays of light falling from the lamps above the bar—covering Keith in a red glow. He seemed completely concentrated on the pair of keys he was throwing in the air and catching before it fell, the keys made a jingling sound and he caught them in his hands. Lance watched, the height of the throw to the speed of the catch. Every time the keys seemed to go higher and every time Keith let them fall just a little more before grabbing them, playing the odds. Each time more risk.

"Why're you staring?," Keith swiped the keys from the air in one hand, head dropping to look at Lance.

"It's not illegal to admire," Lance shrugged.

Keith slipped off the counter, "Coran went home, he left the keys for us to lock up." Lance didn't respond. Keith walked around to the back of the bar and switched off the lights for the bar, "I'm going too. You can take the keys if you're staying longer."

"No, I'm leaving," Lance said. Keith continued to turn all the lights off while Lance threw the ice pack on the counter. He hoped Coran wouldn't mind one melted ice pack in the morning. He and Keith made their way to the door in silence, Keith turned off the the last set of lights for he dining area before ushering Lance out the door and locking it. The cold air immediately enveloped Lance, he threw up the hood of his sweatshirt. The darkness of the night reminding him of how late it was. A handful of stars blinked at him. He turned to look at Keith who was shoving the spare keys of the diner in his pockets and was already starting to walk away.

Lance grabbed his wrist, "Wait," Keith stopped, slowly turning back around, his eyes on Lance waiting for explanation. Lance was keenly aware of the fact that Keith hadn't pulled his wrist away so he let his touch linger, stretching the seconds out.

"I just—I haven't said thank you yet for your uh—medical care, I really owe you one," Lance mumbled, "so, um, thank you." He dropped his hand from Keith's wrist, shoving both his hands into the comfort of his sweatshirt pocket.

Keith stared back at him. Lance could faintly hear music coming from a bar just down the street, there were stray people walking up and down the sidewalks, cars stopped at the red light at the crosswalk and a streetlamp's yellow light flickered. Keith continued to stay quiet and Lance could hear the universe's clock ticking away. Keith's face was blank for another moment and then he was smiling. Pink, full lips turned up into a grin, dimples evident in his cheeks, eyes that looked dark in the night crinkling. He was glowing in the light the streets provided. Lance felt the sidewalk break underneath him as the the cold air strangled him.  _The stars must be playing tricks on me,_ he thought,  _nobody is allowed to be this beautiful._ Lance didn't know what to do, take a picture and frame it? Congratulate Keith on having the prettiest fucking smile he'd ever seen?

"No problem Lance," Keith finally said, "I'll see you around then."

"Y-yeah," Lance managed to say, "see ya man. We should do this more often." He smiled back at Keith who was now rolling his eyes. Lance watched the other boy turn away again and walk down the street in the opposite direction that Lance was headed. He watched him until he couldn't tell him apart from the groups of people loitering outside bars and clubs.

Lance knew what Keith was like. He'd heard rumours and stories, he'd seen it himself in bar fights and street races. Keith hurt, he burned and then he left. Lance began walking home, pulling himself out of the crack in the sidewalk he'd fallen into when Keith had smiled. He let his fingers trail over the bandages on his knuckles—but Keith could also fix.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeyeyeyyeye 
> 
> ok so updates will probably be weekly and some important things to know are:
> 
> Lance and Keith are 18 in this fic  
> The fic takes place in Canada (cause i live in canada and america is too confusing for me to write ab lmao) 
> 
> come yell at me at my vld tumblr: @malacihte


	2. outer space

Keith had always appreciated Coran's diner, it was a single standing comfort within the blur of the entire city. Still, he hardly ever went anymore. Coran's diner was his rock bottom, it was for nights where he was on the edge of disaster, mornings when he had wasted himself  so badly the night before that the slightest noise sent stabs of pain down in body. It was his last resort. Only then was the diner an option. Keith prided himself on his resilience—he'd been an orphan with no home since he was six, he'd been a burden to the foster care system enduring all the abuse that came along with it. He survived it all, he pushed through everything himself.

By the age of eleven he'd had enough of hearing, "this family is willing to take you in," he'd had enough of hoping that this one would be it. He'd had enough of wishing on shooting stars, stray eyelashes and four leaf clovers just hoping to have a family. No matter how many times he crossed his fingers, squeezed his eyes shut and whispered the plea, he was let down every time. By eleven he'd realized a life like that had never been meant for him, he was born for pain. So he had followed his path and ran away, all the way to this city. He'd roamed the streets for a while, slept in the alleys with the other homeless people. He was only a kid so he had more luck when asking for food and money—he'd made by for a week or so. Then he met Shiro.

Shiro was the one who got him off the streets, he'd taken care of him, he gave him a home. For the first time since his dad had died, a real home. It was a small apartment, it hadn't been much but there was warm showers and food for him to eat and a mattress for him to sleep on. Shiro lived there with his friend Matt and Matt's younger sister Pidge—Keith had thought that was end game for him. That he'd finally found everything he needed, of course the universe would never let him off that easy.

A week into his new life Shiro had sat Keith down at the coffee table that was cluttered with old takeout boxes and left over mugs. Shiro had lifted up his sleeve to show Keith his forearm, he'd traced the tattoo he had of a jagged insignia. Keith had watched silently waiting for the worst. He hadn't bothered to care about the tattoo on Shiro's arm he was waiting for Shiro to scream at him or hit him or kick him out. Throw him against a wall and shatter the mugs in his face. But Shiro hadn't, instead he spoke. Calm and low, he'd told Keith that he was in a gang. Eleven year old Keith had only felt relief at hearing that, letting out a breath that he'd been holding in preparation for Shiro to punch him. A gang was nothing to Keith.

Shiro had then begun to explain to Keith how he was part of a gang, how Matt and Pidge were too. He told Keith everything about being in a gang, so much more than an eleven year old should know. Then he'd ended it off by telling him that he'd have to join too, if he wanted to stay. So Keith agreed. Keith had joined without hesitation because being in that tiny apartment was the most safe he'd been in years and he hadn't been about to give it up. He'd trusted Shiro in that moment—he still trusted Shiro.

At eleven Keith joined the Galra, he got the tattoo and everything. By twelve Keith was being trained by Shiro, he learned quickly. Fighting and racing came easily to him. He felt like he belonged somewhere, with knives hidden in his pockets and already sporting scars on his chest. He felt dangerous and wanted, he felt like he had a purpose. By thirteen he was no longer afraid, at least that's what he told himself. He'd stopped being scared of the dark, of space and the ocean, he stopped being afraid of monsters because he lived with them now so what was the point. He wasn't afraid of ghosts either cause they were always hanging around the apartment. He definitely wasn't afraid of pain—he'd grown up with that. By fourteen he'd completely given up on childhood wonder and replaced it with strive to be the best at what he did, spending every day trying to prove himself. At fifteen he did, he'd become one of the gang leader's—Zarkon's, favourites. He had everything he wanted.

Sixteen and seventeen—he'd looked in the mirror and the scars on his chest didn't look like anything to celebrate anymore, they looked ugly. Keith had wished he could erase them. The knives in his pocket had started to feel heavier, the satisfaction of being the 'best' faded away. He hated the sounds of his apartment—it had grown in population over the years and that had made things worst. He'd felt lost, just like he'd been five years ago when he was running away from his foster home. Sixteen was when he started coming to the diner, he'd spent most of his days and nights there. Seventeen had been rock bottom. It was cleaning the counters of the diner so much so he would wish for the soap to leak underneath his skin and cleanse his soul too. Sixteen and seventeen had been trying too hard to stray away from the only life he'd known. 

He was eighteen now, he'd stopped caring. Eighteen was dousing himself in gasoline and lighting the match himself. Eighteen was burning.

So he'd stopped going to the diner as much as he had last year, he'd lifted himself off the red vinyl seats he'd sown himself to two years before when he'd spent way too many nights sleeping on them. He didn't have much of a reason to go anymore. At least that's how it had been until Lance had shown up dressed in blue bruises on top of brown skin. Keith had never met anyone like Lance.

Lance was electric, with freckles that fell on warm brown skin like raindrops and blue eyes like the deepest trench of the ocean. Lance radiated a spell that put everyone's eyes on him, including Keith's. He was cocky and he used too much cheap cologne that made him smell like dead roses. He had an addiction to bubblegum and was constantly blowing it in Keith's face. He laughed too loud, he smiled with all his teeth and sung along to all his favourite 50s and 60s songs that played from the jukebox. He made stupid jokes, flirted with every person he found attractive and blew bubbles through his straw into his chocolate milkshake. He talked to people like he'd known them for years, he walked like every place was his home. Lance stole all the light. Keith thought he was made of outer space.

Keith really hadn't meant to start coming back to the diner as much but he kept finding himself unconsciously walking to it whenever he was out. Sometimes alone, sometimes with Pidge—his mind brought him back there on the chance that Lance would be there too. More than once he wasn't but then there were the times he was. He'd come in put a dime in the jukebox and play whichever songs he was feeling then he'd find Keith in the far right corner booth and slide into the seat across from him. He'd make fun of the book Keith was reading, order his sugar packed milkshake then just start talking. Every time they strayed farther from the original  _Do you know who I am,_ to so much more.

"Hey!" Lance slapped Keith's hand away, "These are  _my_ fries. Go buy your own if you want them so bad."

"You've never minded me sharing before," Keith pointed out. The door of the diner opened and closed again as another family left, it was getting late. The sky was bleeding hues of light blue to orange as the sun set below the horizon, melting away.

"I mind today," Lance said. Keith stared at Lance, keeping steady eye contact with him as he took a fry from the tin anyways and ate it. Lance watched, disbelief evident in his eyes then he shook his head, "I know you're part of a gang and all but a thief I never thought you'd stoop so low."

"Surprise," Keith decided he didn't want to stop there and took a sip from Lance's milkshake too despite being lactose intolerant. Sacrifices had to be made sometimes.

"Didn't anyone ever teach you  _any_ manners?" Lance asked, gathering his fries and milkshake into a protective circle with his arms.

"No, did anyone ever teach you to share?"

"I'll have you know that I've been sharing my entire life, you can't not share when you have two brothers and a sister," Lance said matter-of-factly, pointing a limp fry at him for emphasis.

"Two brothers and a sisters," Keith echoed, completely forgetting about their petty argument over fries. He couldn't imagine having that much family, he could barely grasp the concept of having a family at all.

"Yup, Louis is the oldest then," Lance began counting on fingers, "Vanessa, me, Sonny." He shrugged, playing it off like it meant nothing at all but the obvious fondness etched all over his face told a different story. One that made Keith even more curious.

"Tell me about them," Keith said. For a second Lance seemed taken aback, eyes widened then a slight crease in his eyebrows. As if he was surprised that anyone would want to listen to him talk about his family, Lance didn't know how desperately Keith wanted to know what it was like to have a normal family like he did, being deprived of something for so long made a person interested to see what they were missing out on. Lance's confused reaction shifted as quickly as it had come.

Keith hadn't been prepared for the smile that broke out on Lance's face. He'd already spent enough time with Lance to categorize his smiles since he had an array types. From polite smiles to waiters and waitresses, self satisfied smirks whenever he managed to annoy Keith, the quick upturn at the corner of his mouth whenever he was amused by something and wide flirtatious grins he'd shoot at groups of girls who'd walk into the diner. He'd thought he'd discovered it all, obviously he'd been wrong. Now Lance's face was so full of  _love_. The sun was inside his heart and light was radiating off him blinding Keith. There was no more subtle fondness like before, Keith's interest seemed to have completely cracked Lance's nonchalance from before.

"What do you want to know?" Lance asked.

Keith took another sip from Lance's milkshake who didn't seem to care anymore, "Anything."  _Anything_ , Lance could be talking about nothing and everything and Keith would listen because that was the kind of effect Lance gave off. He spoke too fast and he stumbled on words and he went from one idea to the next and wanted to say so much so quickly. He gave off the air that everything he said was important that made Keith hang onto each word. The song playing on the jukebox switched to some Nat King Cole track Keith had gotten use to hearing and Lance started speaking. Anything, everything, nothing.

He spoke about Louis' kids, Lance's niece and nephew—Isabel and Neo and he spoke about how Vanessa was at college to become a marine biologist and how Sonny (who he said was closest to him both family and age wise) was an artist and drew the most beautiful portraits. He told Keith that Isabel had a dance recital for school in two days and that he was going over to Louis' place to help her practise and about Neo's constant begging for a dog even though their mother, Amelia—Lance's sister in law kept saying no. Keith nodded along and added in his input and laughed when it made sense but mostly he watched. The way Lance's hands moved around to emphasis points, his face softening as he talked about each family member, the love glittering in his eyes.

Love, love, love. Love in the way he said their names, love in the way he could barely contain his laughter when he recited a story about Neo bringing home a squirrel from the park thinking it was a chihuahua and how Louis had lost it. Love in the way he spoke, soft like it was a secret. Love spilling down the red vinyl seats, staining the table, drowning their booth. Sticky and sweet. Love that will never reach Keith. Anything, everything, nothing.

"I'm not even sure how Neo managed to tame the squirrel. It followed us back to their house and I couldn't get Neo to shoo it away," Lance explained. All Keith could imagine was a tiny version of Lance carrying around a squirrel in it's arm and presenting it to every as his chihuahua. "You can imagine Louis's surprise when the squirrel ran inside the house and started running all over the place. It was amazing. Neo was pretty bummed when the squirrel had to go though, we had to hold an honorary funeral and everything. Anyways what about you?"

Keith blinked once at the sudden acknowledgment that wasn't a rhetorical question. "What?"

"You haven't said anything about your family," Lance pointed out.

"I don't have one," Keith said. What would he even tell Lance?

That in between the ages of 6 and 11 he'd wished on every star that his mother would come to the door of his foster home and take him in her red minivan and kiss his forehead and apologize for leaving and Keith would forgive her because she was his mom. Then they would go out for ice cream and Keith would get cookie dough and she would get chocolate. After she'd bring him back to her little apartment and take him to his room, filled with posters of rocket ships and the floor littered with soccer balls and model airplanes and everything he could ever want. Or would he tell him about how hard he worked to remember every detail about his father after he'd died, nights he spent as a child trying to remember his sound of voice, drawing his face on the back of loose paper with broken crayons but never getting the nose quite right. Finally giving up when he'd met Shiro.

Lance snorted, "I get you have this whole lone wolf, edgy aesthetic going on with your greaser worthy leather jacket but you've gotta have something to talk about even if it's not about family."

"And what if I don't?"

"Well then you're a gang member, a fry thief and a liar."

Keith rolled his eyes at that, count on Lance to make everything more dramatic then it had to be. "Fine, what do you want to know?"

There was the little upturn at the corner of his mouth, the one Keith knew meant he was silently happy about something. He leaned forward on the table, chin resting in the palm of his hand. The sleeve of his sweater slipped down a few inches centimetres, "Anything."

Keith thought about it for a moment. He didn't have anything, he had minimal but he tried anyways, "I was kicked out of school when I was sixteen."

Lance raised an eyebrow at that, "Should I even ask why Mister Gang Member?"

"Behavioural issues and yeah the whole gang activity thing," he said. The expulsion hadn't really bothered him, he'd never felt a connection to school anyways. He'd known he'd be fine without it, school was easy for him, he already knew all he needed to know. He wasn't looking to get into some IVY league college or any college in general, he was stuck here high school diploma or not so it didn't matter.

"Doesn't it ever bother you?" Lance asked.

"No," Keith answered truthfully.

"Wasn't there something you wanted to do though?" Lance paused for a second, "Like something you wanted to  _be_?"

"Uh, when I was eight I wanted to be a firefighter," Keith frowned, not sure what Lance was trying to say. Then Lance started laughing which only made Keith more confused. "What?" he asked.

He really  _had_ wanted to be a firefighter, it wasn't a lie. He remembered during the time of what must've been his third foster home a fire had broken out across the street from them. The distinct sound of the sirens as firefighters outlined by smoke and flames putting it out. Keith remembered thinking they were like superheroes he'd see in cartoons he'd watched Sunday mornings.

"Nothing," Lance shook his head. "Just the image of you as a firefighter, jumping into burning buildings and saving lives. I mean." He squinted his eyes at Keith, "I guess I could see it. You'd have to get a haircut of course, your mullet could catch on fire and we wouldn't want that."

"Shut up Lance, that doesn't make sense they have helmets," Keith said, though he had to agree the thought of himself being a firefighter now was pretty far fetched.

Lance shot him that teasing smirk Keith had become oh so accustomed to and continued finishing his fries, they both went quiet. Keith replayed Lance's question in his mind,  _what did he want to be_? Not firefighter, that was a child's dream and not who he was now.

"When I was eight I wanted to be a mermaid," Lance said, breaking the silence. He wasn't looking and Keith, eyes focused on the bottom of his milkshake as he stirred the last bit with the straw.

Keith couldn't help but laugh, "And you made fun of me for wanting to be a firefighter at least mine was possible."

"Hey!" Lance looked up. "It's not my fault. Vanessa convinced me that if you spent enough time in the bath you'd grow a fish tail. I was young, stupid and gullible."

"You haven't changed much then."

"Fuck off Keith, mermaids are so much cooler than firefighters," Lance argued. Then as an afterthought he added, "You really don't miss anything about school?"

"No way," Keith wrinkled his nose at the thought of being back there. Arrogant peers and sadistic professors always talking about how he was wasting his talent. He had hated the disappointment in his principals eyes when he'd told Keith he was being expelled. He didn't want their pity and he sure as fuck didn't need it on his conscience. "You're still in school then?"

"Yeah, technically I should be outta high school by now but we moved around a bit when I was younger so I had to redo grade three, " Lance explained. "I finish high school this year though then off to college." His voice had gone quieter at the end.

"You don't sound too excited for that."

"No, it's not that I'm not excited it's just," Lance sighed. "It's scary, I don't know if I'm good enough. Like what if I get to college and everyone is brilliant and compared to them I'm just not. It'll feel like I don't even belong there."

"Do you want to go though—to college?" Keith asked. He wasn't sure how to comfort Lance exactly so he'd opted for the question instead.

"'Course I do," he said. The sun had set and most people had left the diner exempt of a few stragglers. Tables were being cleaned off, the door swung open and closed as more families went home. They'd be the only ones left soon just like when they'd first met.

"Where would you go?" Keith was surprised at how quiet his voice had got. As the background noise of all the other diner goers had vanished it seemed he'd changed his tone to match the diners stillness.

"Space," Lance smiled.

"Space," Keith repeated.

"Mhmm," Lance drained the last of his milkshake. "I guess I'd have to study astrophysics or some super sciencey thing like that but the end game is space. I'd go to the moon, meet a bunch of pretty aliens and talk to ever star. I'd dance on Saturn's rings and play hopscotch on the asteroid belt—did you know one night on Uranus would last 21 years for us?"

Keith shook his head and Lance kept talking about star clusters and comets, supernovas and galaxies. The last group of people other than them left, then waiters and waitresses clocked out after clearing the tables. Leaving him and Lance and Coran who Keith assumed was still in the kitchens. Keith's head buzzed with cosmic nothings and in the frozen static of the diner Keith thinks he can see the planets revolving around Lance and burning stars tangled in his hair, constellations scattered across his nose, eyes blue like Neptune and piercings shining like the surface of Venus. He stole the room and sucked in all the light like a black hole. Keith decided he was right to say Lance was outer space, he was made of every celestial object and anyone could easily become lost in him. He was the anything, everything and nothing of space.

Keith continued to listen intently, content and safe in the little booth, the song on the jukebox switched to Ben E. King. Lance's voice filled up all the empty space.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapters got some subtle foreshadowing ooouuu


	3. bad religion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _only bad, only bad religion_  
>  could have me feeling the way i do  
> \- bad religion . frank ocean

It was already late when Lance came to the diner, sky draining to a darkness. He knew it was a long shot that Keith would still be there but he decided it wouldn't hurt to check on his way home. He got off at the stop a block away from the diner, shoving his transfer into the front pocket of his jeans. Walking quickly down the street, avoiding the eyes of others passing by him. The lights at Coran's Diner were still on, the neon  _OPEN_ sign flickered. Lance could just make out the familiar outline of a motorcycle that sent a wave of relief over him.  _So he was here_. He couldn't stop the small smile appearing on his face.

Sure enough Keith was leaning against the wall of the diner. Cigarette held between his finger, he blew out a puff of grey smoke floating around him in a haze reminding Lance of a dream. A part of him was content just watching Keith but he decided that that would be pretty stupid. A couple steps later he was right by Keith, "Hey edgy mcedgerson," Lance plucked the cigarette out of Keith's fingers, "you know these things can kill you." He took a drag from the cigarette, inhaling the smoke and letting it warm his body. Finally breathing it out, the grey cloud curled in front of them.

Keith took back the cigarette, dropping it to the sidewalk and crushing it with his boot. He sighed, "You're such a hypocrite." Then as an afterthought he added,"Don't call me edgy mcedgerson."

"Do you prefer emo Billy Ray Cyrus then?" Lance shot him a winning grin. Keith turned to him with a scowl and Lance suddenly became very aware that they were just inches away from each other.

Keith's hair was up in a ponytail, stray strands of hair framing his face. His silver stud earrings glinting. Lance tried to ignore his urge to look down and memorize the slope of Keith's neck and the dip in his throat. He knotted his hands together behind his back to make sure he didn't do anything dumb like take a lock of Keith's hair in his fingers and push it behind his ear which was becoming increasingly tempting. "Are we going in?" Keith gestured to the diner's door.

Lance glanced in, the black and white posters and photographs that were scattered across the walls, the groups of families and friends huddled in the booths, waiters and waitresses walking around platters of food or drinks in hands. Everything just behind the glass yet it felt like he was watching it play out like a scene from a movie. If he punched the glass and stuck his hand through it he'd only find a screen.

"No," Lance said.

"No?" Keith furrowed his eyebrows at him with an obvious air of confusion. Lance isn't sure what triggered his rejection of the diner but he was sticking with it. He wasn't in the mood to be in the presence of dozens, he just wanted Keith. "Then what?" Keith asked.

"We do something else. Let's go somewhere," Lance suggested.

"Like?" Keith raised an eyebrow at him.

"Fuck, I don't know. Anywhere. Don't you have a bucket list or something?" Lance frowned, struggling to think of something to do.

"No do you?"

"Bucket lists are for losers who don't do the shit they want to do in the moment," Lance stated.

"Then why did you ask me if I had one?" Keith asked.

"Because you're a loser," Lance answered.

"Shut up McClain."

"Make me Kogane."

Keith pushed himself off the wall, making Lance wary.  _Was he coming over to him?_ He probably shouldn't have challenged him, Lance prepared himself for a hit or something but it didn't come. Instead Keith headed off towards his motorcycle, "Seeing as you can't think of anywhere to go I might as well leave." This sent Lance's mind into overdrive.

He caught Keith's upper arm, before he'd had a chance to get on his motorcycle. Lance held tight, attaching himself to the leather jacket so Keith wouldn't disappear in a streak of gasoline, "Wait, stay. I know where we can go." Lance had chose the first place that had come to mind.

"Where?" Keith asked, disbelief lacing his tone.

"Surprise. I'll give you directions on the way," Lance let go of Keith who sighed but didn't complain about Lance keeping their destination a secret. Keith swung a leg over his motorcycle. Lance stared,  _was he supposed to get on too?_

As if Keith could read his mind he turned to Lance with an expectant look, "You coming?"

"Uh," Lance eyed the motorcycle for another second, "yeah." He got on behind Keith, "Do you have a helmet or something?" Lance scanned the area of the motorcycle looking for a helmet and ended up finding his own answer before Keith would reply. Lance bit the inside of his cheek accepting that he would probably die tonight.

"Didn't bring one so you have to hold on tight," Keith said, leaning over to grip the handles. Lance hesitantly wrapped his arms around Keith's torso. "Ready?"

"Was born ready man," Lance said, trying to hide the slight tremor in his voice. He'd never taken a joyride on a motorcycle before and Keith wasn't known for driving slow, too many road races Lance had watched had taught him to be wary of Keith's driving. The fact that he wasn't wearing a helmet just put him more on edge. After he breathed out a silent prayer and gave Keith a couple directions they were off.

Lance's stomach gave a lurch and he tightened his arms around Keith's stomach. He shut his eyes tight for a moment until the initial surprise wore off and he started to get used to it. He decided it wasn't too bad, Keith wasn't going very fast and it was actually kind of nice. He opened his eyes to the scenes of nightlife to his left and right that blurred past them in a frenzy of yellow lights and neon signs, colours flashing across them, the wind whistling in his ears. He could hear distant shouts and laughter but it quickly faded out as they moved past it all.

Lance was about to let out a howl but it quickly turned into a shriek as Lance realized he'd definitely spoke too soon. Keith was going faster and  _faster_. The wind is no longer calming and the blurs became streaks and Lance was sure he was about to slip off the end of the seat and end up broken on the road. He could hear Keith laughing loud and daring as if he was calling for death to come catch up to them. Lance wanted to yell at him, cuss him out, tell him to cut the shit before they're both dead but then Keith goes up another notch and before Lance can even comprehend it, he has his face buried into Keith's shoulder, his chest pressed to Keith's back. He can feel his heart pounding against his ribs trying to break out.

"Too fast?" Keith taunted, laughter still evident in his voice. "I can slow down if you want."

"Fuck off," Lance mumbled against the leather of Keith's jacket. Like hell he was about to tell Keith to  _slow down_. No matter how much he wanted him to, "Go faster I don't care." Keith did, shaking the grim reapers of their tails as Lance held on tighter and wondered how they haven't been pulled over yet. He could smell the smoke from Keith's cigarettes still clutching to his skin, the sharp scent of mint and the oxygen turning to gasoline around them. As seconds turned to minutes Lance's fingers twisted into Keith's shirt. Lance felt his heart rate slow down again and then just like that he felt safe again. In Keith's hands, as they dissolved into particles. The speed didn't scare him any more.

When they finally came to a stop, Lance unlocked his arms from Keith's torso but continued to rest his forehead on his shoulder. To his surprise Keith let him, not moving away. Slowly Lance raised his head, taking a deep breath he got off the motorcycle. He stumbled a bit but Keith grabbed his elbow to balance him, his knuckles pearly white in the moonlight. "Thanks," Lance managed to get out, the whole world was slow again and Lance was getting used to the change in tempo.

Keith shook his head, his hair already messy from the wind got even messier as stray hairs escaped from his ponytail. Lance watched him, the way his skin glowed in the darkness like he'd been drench in the light of halos. Keith slipped off his motorcycle then leaned against it, facing Lance. "Sorry if you were scared."

"Scared of what?" Lance asked, still focused on the way the moonlight danced along Keith's face. Then his mind clicked back to reality and he remembered how they'd gotten to be there. "Oh no, me scared of a little speed? No way," he said, placing a hand on his heart to emphasis the sincerity.

Keith's eyes narrowed, "I can still feel your arms pressing into me." He rubbed his side and Lance become immensely glad that it was dark out. He could feel the blood rush in his cheeks and it would suck if Keith knew he was blushing, he really hadn't meant to hold  _so_ tight.

"You've got the wrong idea Kogane," Lance started, doing what he did best when it came to Keith—denying, "I was holding on, not because I was scared but because I didn't want to fall off. You're the one who didn't have a helmet—which is definitely illegal when you're riding a motorcycle and very dangerous by the way—so I had to take extra precautions to protect my beautiful face," he explained. "Why do you drive so fast anyways?" Lance asked, trying to change the subject.

Keith didn't look like he agreed with Lance's explanation but he took his bait anyways, "I don't know, it's fun? Makes me feel alive I guess."

Lance scoffed at that. " _Makes me feel alive_ ," he repeated, "sounds like a My Chemical Romance song."

"Yeah well at least I can handle a little speed without whimpering," Keith retorted. Lance was surprised at how quickly he could shoot back, also slightly amused.

"I was not  _whimpering_ ," Lance huffed, "also a  _little_ speed you were going like a hundred times the speed limit!"

"So you were scared!"

"I," Lance trailed off, "no. Wait," he frowned trying to put together words before finally giving up. "Stop twisting my words Keith!"

Keith was laughing. Not the brave, coaxing laugh that had blown in the wind while they were driving down the road on the motorcycle. This one was more genuine. His eyes crinkling, trying to catch his breath and dimples in his cheeks and clutching to the handle of the motorcycle. Lance really hasn't been prepared for this, he stared for a moment watching wondering how the fuck Keith could ever hurt anyone. If he didn't know better he'd never have guessed Keith could be part of a gang let alone the best fighter and o _h my god, did he just snort?_ Then Lance was laughing too at how unbelievable this all was, he was with Keith Kogane—someone who he should hate, in front of the closed public pool arguing about whether or not he was scared of Keith's too fast driving.

All Lance could think about was how unreal the last few weeks had been. Keith and him,  _were they friends?_ Because it really felt like it. Somewhere along the way he'd begun to trust Keith, he'd started to like hanging out with him, talking to him. It wasn't for his own curiosity anymore but just because he enjoyed it. Seeing him, teasing him, hearing his laugh and watching his smile unravel. Except it was too good to be true as the little voice in his head kept reminding him. They weren't allowed to be friends, they weren't supposed to be like  _this._ It wasn't right but Lance had learned not to care, he ignored the voice telling him that his time with Keith had an expiration date. Living with a big family had made him possessive over what was his and Keith was his. He knew he was being selfish but he didn't want to lose this friendship yet, he would buy as much time as he could.

The laughter died out as they both caught their breath, the night's silence falling over them again. Lance felt full and hollow at the same time. Keith broke the quiet first, "Why the pool?"

Lance had almost forgotten where they were, he glanced over at the wired fence, the water glowing blue. "Felt like a swim," he said simply. Lance walked up to the fence and began to climb over it, the wires pressed into his palms. He got up to the top and looked down to find Keith staring up at him. He shot him a grin, "Coming?" Lance jumped down from the fence almost tripping but catching his balance at the last second,  _so much for looking cool_.

He heard the rattle of the fence and then Keith jumped down beside him, unlike Lance he landed perfectly crouched. The pool was still, a sparkling teal. Light beamed through it covering the edges of the pool in a hazy blue colour, it almost felt like a dream to Lance. The smell of chlorine and the static silence. Public pools were loud and dirty, kids running around despite the signs that told them not to, the sharp sound of a lifeguards whistle, giggling and screams and splashes. There should be bandaids floating on top of the water and water spilling over the side. Seeing it so quiet and lifeless, the white chairs empty, made Lance uneasy, like he'd walked in on a someone whispering a secret.

All he wanted to do was jump in and revive it. He slipped his shirt over his head and dropped it on the concrete ground. Kicking off his sneakers, he worked down his pants then went to pull down his boxers too when Keith made a sound of disapproval. "What?" Lance asked, smirking at Keith. "Never been skinny dipping before?" He didn't reply so Lance took it as a yes. "Don't worry I won't look at you, it's dark anyways. Alright?" Keith still didn't make a move, "What are you? Afraid or something." That seemed to trigger Keith into action who gave Lance a glare before pulling off his shirt too.

Lance took off the last of his clothes and immediately jumped into the deep end of the pool. Falling in to the cool water, the cold engulfed the warmth of his skin. He swam up to the point where he could stand with just his head peaking out of the water, he took a deep breath then found Keith who was still taking off his shoes. Lance sent a splash of water over to him, "Hurry up!"

Keith pulled off his other shoes then his pants. True to his word Lance ducked his head back into the water before Keith went completely commando. He held his breath until he heard Keith slipping into the shallow end with a small splash. Lance pushed his head back up to see Keith standing a couple feet away, he'd taken out his ponytail and his hair was messy around his face. Lance sent another wave of water at him and this time it caught him full on. " _Hey,_ " Keith called out.

Keith swam closer and Lance could see him more clearly.  _Scars,_ lines of lighter skin that had healed over Keith's past wounds. There were a couple scattered across his chest. Before Lance could say anything Keith splashed him back. Lance made the quick decision to ask about the scars later, now wasn't the time. Instead he laughed and ducked back into the water, swimming away to avoid Keith's second hit. They kept on like that for awhile until Lance decided he was done hiding. Resurfacing back above the water Lance sent a tidal wave towards Keith causing him to splutter and drenching him again. It took him a second to recompose himself but then he was swimming towards Lance fast who'd been howling with laughter. Before Lance could get away Keith had pushed his shoulders down into the water. His head went underwater, a second in Lance remember they were  _naked_ , he quickly closed his eyes before he saw anything.

Grabbing at Keith's hands Lance managed to rip them from his shoulders and push him off, swallowing pool water on the way up. He stood up coughing, only to see Keith grinning at him, hair wet and sticking to his face, water dripped down his forehead and along the slope of his neck.  _How could he stay mad at that?_ Once Lance had finished choking on the pool water he leaned against the wall of the pool stretching his legs out in the water. "We need to settle this," he told Keith, "with a race. From here to the other end of the pool." Lance knew this was a little unfair since he was on the swim team but he decided that it didn't matter.

Keith considered it for a second, "What're the stakes?"

"Uh, bragging rights and loser has to admit that the winner is way better than them at everything," Lance suggested.

"Alright," Keith agreed. He joined Lance at the wall of the pool.

"No kicking each other, no grabbing, no pushing. We start at my count of three got it?" Lance set out the rules. Keith nodded in understanding. They both pressed their backs up against the wall. "Three," Lance gripped the edge of the pool, "two," he glanced quickly at Keith who was staring at the other end of the pool, "one." Lance pushed off the wall and started kicking as fast as he could, arms spinning launching himself through the water.

He turned his head to the side to breathe and saw he was already slightly ahead of Keith. Lance continued to swim faster since Keith was swiftly catching up. Lance had thought this would be easy with his experience. He tried his best to decrease drag, keeping himself balanced enough while quickly cutting through the water. Every time he turned to breathe Keith was coming closer. Lance held on, knowing he was almost at the end then with one last kick he propelled himself to the wall, reaching to slap his hand on the edge. He pulled himself out of the water just in time to see Keith get there right after. " _Ha!_ " Lance shouted, "I win!"

Keith was breathing hard, much more than Lance which only added to his pride. "I guess so," Keith said.

"You know what you have to say now," Lance smirked.

Keith crossed his arms across his chest with a sigh he muttered, "You are way better than me at everything."

"Sorry couldn't hear you," Lance put a hand to his ear, gesturing at Keith to repeat what he said even thought he'd heard it clearly the first time.

"You are way better than me at everything," Keith repeated an octave louder.

"That's great but," Lance was having too much fun with this, "I think there's gotta be more passion. You have to sell it Keith."

"No where in the rules did it say I have to say it with  _passion_ ," Keith said.

"You have a point there but—" Lance was about argue further when Keith interrupted

"Where'd you learn to swim like that?" he asked.

"Oh," Lance blinked, caught slightly off guard. He scratched the back of his neck, "Louis and Vanessa taught me how to swim when we were younger back in Cuba."

" _Cuba_?"

"Yeah," Lance whistled, "we moved here when I was eight. You can imagine my anger when I saw this pool. You can't just go from Varadero beach to a shitty public pool."

He'd hated this pool when he was younger, he'd wanted the beach back so badly. Back to his home. He'd even tried calling the airline to see if he could get a ticket back to Cuba (they had been nonrefundable and it wouldn't have worked otherwise anyways). The new city had slowly grown on him as he grew up. Although there was still a part of him that wanted to leave, maybe not as far as Cuba anymore but all the same. He wanted more, to see the stars. Lance flipped onto his back and floated towards the middle of the pool staring out into the night sky, trying to make out the brightest stars that could be seen through the light pollution.

"Also I'm on the swim team at school so that helps," Lance added.

Lance stood back up once he reached the middle of the pool, Keith swam towards him then stopped in front of him again, "You ever miss it?"

"The swim team?"

"No, Cuba."

Lance pulled at a wet clump of hair stuck to the middle of his forehead, "Sometimes. A lot when I was younger not as much now. I don't remember too much about it anyways. I was a kid when we came here, I just have pieces of memories. The beach, pizza shack, all my extended family members, cousins, grandparents." Lance sighed.

"To be honest I miss my old house a lot. When we first moved here we lived in the white ass suburbs but I loved that house. Most of my memories are there. We sold it two year ago, suburb houses are all the rage now y'know. We just didn't need as much space anymore and moving to an apartment made sense. Louis and Vanessa had moved out, my grandparents found a new place to stay," Lance said. He's not sure why he's telling Keith all of this, he's not even sure if Keith's is listening. Still he continued on, "I guess I just miss having everyone in one place. Everyone's scattered now—I mean not like I'll never see them again but I don't know. So much is changing." Thinking about all of this put a bit of a damper on his mood.

Keith seemed to notice because he changed the subject, "I didn't know you had tattoos." Lance glanced down at his chest where Keith was staring. The vine of freesias and roses with little planets embedded within, it curled from the base of his shoulders and along the right of his chest. On his left hip he had two koi fish swimming downwards towards his stomach. He'd gotten the flowers last summer and the fish a couple months ago. They didn't really hold any meaning but Lance thought they looked nice and he was happy with them.

"You don't know lots of things about me," Lance shrugged, it came out a lot sadder than he'd meant it. His own guilt laced in the words. Fortunately Keith didn't comment. His eyes were fixed on Lance's tattoo, something about his gaze made him squirm. He suddenly became hyperaware of how exposed they were both were, they were naked for fuck's sake, only inches apart and he could see Keith's chest rise up and down as he breathed. Lance was this close to cracking a stupid joke just so he could move away but then there was a finger on his chest.  _Keith's finger_ , tracing the flowers of his tattoo—looping around the petals and leaves. Shivers went up Lance's spine but he didn't dare move, standing deathly still watching Keith who continued to follow the lines of his tattoo. The pool water turned to ice around them and the static sound grew louder in Lance's ears and Keith was still touching him like it's nothing. If Keith moved just a little farther to the right he'd find Lance's heart pushing against his rib cage.

Lance wanted to close his eyes but he realized that that might be weird so he focused on the droplets of water that rolled down Keith's neck, down his shoulders, on to his chest.  _And Keith's finger is still trailing along his chest_. Something in Lance wanted to close the distant and press himself to Keith and crack the ice freezing him to the spot.

But he doesn't. Instead he caught Keith's hand in his, pulling it away from his chest. Keith seemed to finally break out of whatever trance he was in because he broke his connection with Lance's tattoo and looked up at him instead. His eyes were dark in the night but the glow of the water seemed to make him shine, his lips were pulled into the slightest pout and all his sharp features were highlighted silvery and unreal. He looked like an angel without a halo or a prince without a crown or some other shit metaphor Lance couldn't think of right now that could capture the way the water droplets dripped down his hair and raced along his skin and the moonlight that was tangled in his gaze, caught on his silver earrings.

All Lance could do is stare, eyes flickering to pink lips. Keith's hand was still clutched in his. The air seemed to buzz and Lance thought he was inching forward, he wasn't sure. Everything was happening before he could process it, like someone was controlling them with puppet strings. Then he made the mistake of glancing over to Keith's arm,  _Keith's tattoo._ The voice in his head turned back on, the pool melted to water, Lance dropped Keith's hand and it fell into the water sending ripples across the pool. Both of them blink back into reality and move away from each other.

"We should go," Keith said, his voice dusty, thick. Lance nodded and swam back to the poolside pushing himself over the side and back onto the concrete ground. His mind was racing with a million different thoughts, going through the last minutes over and over again. He walked to the pool equipment room.  _Did that really just happen?_ The door is unlocked so he let himself in.  _Did he almost kiss Keith?_ He searched for a second until he find the extra towels, he grabbed two.  _What was he thinking?_ He tied one of the towels around his waist then left the room, closing the door behind him.  _What is Keith thinking now?_

Lance found Keith standing at the edge of the pool in the shallow end, back to Lance. And  _oh_ , Keith has more tattoos too. His entire back, covered in ink. Lance can't make out all of the details but he can see the shape of a lion and tendrils of fire. Lance was tempted to repeat what Keith had done, trace Keith's tattoos and bring the flames to life. Just so Keith would know how Lance had felt, just so Keith could feel how everything had froze. Except Lance knew better.

"Hey, I have a towel," he called out. His voice sounded weak, the toll the last minutes had taken on him evident. Keith turned to him and his tattoo vanished from Lance's view.

Lance threw the other towel to him. Keith caught it. "Turn around," Keith said. Lance did, he heard Keith getting out of the pool then his steps as he went over to their pile of clothes. "Okay, you're good."

Lance turned back around to see Keith turned away, boxers back on drying himself off. Lance quickly made his way to the clothes pile and pulled on his own boxers. They both towelled themselves dry and put all there clothes back on in silence. The quiet hung around them, tension thick and uncomfortable. Lance wanted to say something, anything to make it go away but his voice wouldn't work and all the words piled up in his throat and stuck themselves there. He pulled on his shoes and dropped his towel to the side of the pool on top of Keith's. They climbed back up the fence and dropped to the ground. This time Lance didn't trip.

"I'll take you to your place," Keith said. Lance doesn't argue. They get back on his motorcycle and Lance managed to list off the directions to his apartment. Keith drove fast but not nearly as fast as before. Lance didn't have to hide his face in Keith's shoulder and though his arms were still wrapped around Keith's torso they were considerably looser than how they had been last time around.

The wind blew across his face and a sinking feeling settled in Lance's chest, weighing him down all the way home. He's not sure how they ended up like this, he'd never intended it to be taken so far. Sure he thought Keith was pretty and smart and he had this dry sense of humour that Lance had grown to like. Lance also liked the way he smiled and laughed and his heart did fucking backflips when Keith surprised him with a retort or pun. He liked flirting with Keith just to get on his nerve but he'd never expected anything more than that. Petty flirting and secretly finding him attractive. Being friends with him was already a risk, but kissing Keith would be like throwing himself into a burning building. Tying himself to the train tracks with no way back. Kissing Keith was dangerous, like speeding down a road on a motorcycle without a helmet.

They came to a stop outside of Lance's apartment. The grey building looming above them, a couple of windows were radiating a yellow light from inside, most had their curtains drawn. The parking lot had cars scattered throughout it. The air had gone chilly, covering Lance's arms in goosebumps. He stumbled off the motorcycle, he looked up to see the window of his apartment. The lights were still on, he guessed his mom was up late waiting for him. He felt a twist of guilt in his stomach, she always waited. She used to get angry, yell at him for coming home so late. Eventually anger turned to disappointment and sadness, tears in her eyes and Lance felt anvils in his chest.

He checked his watch, it wasn't too late yet. He still had a couple minutes before he should be home and they were right on time. "One more stop Keith," he said.

"What?" he asked, pulling off his helmet. Confusion written all over his face. Lance hadn't banked on it being so awkward once they got to his apartment but he wasn't about to let it ruin his plan.

"Come on," Lance coaxed Keith. He decided to just start walking and hope the other followed behind. Sure enough he could hear the steps of Keith's boots on pavement going after him. They made it to the underpass just beside the apartment. In a minute the train would go over them. Lance dropped himself to the concrete, laying down and staring up at the underpass. If enough pressure was put on it from above the structure would crumble, the debris burying Lance in stone.

A second later he felt Keith fall beside him, the sky was covered and there was graffiti all over the walls. Shattered glass from broken alcohol bottles and burnt out cigarettes littered the ground, there was a distinct smell of garbage and the sound of cars skidding down the street and a police siren plagued the night. "This is my favourite place to scream," Lance said, "when the train passes over us I can say whatever I want as loud as I want and no one will hear me."

"And you call me the emo one," Keith mumbled.

Just like that the swimming pool scene is pushed to the back of Lance's mind as he was in awe of how unpredictable Keith was. Lance pushed his shoulder, "Shut up."

"Okay, okay," Keith said, "I get it we're having a moment here."

"No we are not," Lance denied.

"We're laying on the ground, past midnight, talking about screaming our deepest secrets into the night," Keith pointed out, "I think this counts as a moment."

"Nope, don't think so," Lance said, knowing Keith was getting frustrated. He could hear the low rumble of the train coming closer and closer and just as Keith started to say something the roaring began to fill their ears. " _Keith Kogane fucking sucks and he has a disgusting_ _eighties_ _haircut,"_ Lance screamed, his words drowned out by the train but Keith was still close enough to hear.

" _Lance is a little bitch who's afraid of driving too fast and can't come to terms with us having a moment,_ " Keith shouted. The train grew louder and they both continued to yell at the underpass. Eventually it passed and the roar died back to a rumble and then nothing but they continued to scream. Cursing authority figures and people they'd hated years ago. Their voices going hoarse and cold air enveloping them. When Lance is sure Keith's eyes are glued above them he turned his head to look at him.

Keith looked beautiful and all Lance could do was scream the words in the train's music letting it be overpowered. So Lance decided that he'd lock away everything that happened at the pool, burying it in the crumbled remains of the underpass—underneath the cigarette butts and shattered glass and curse words that fluttered in the wind, in the roaring of the train. They'd forget it all, turn it into a dream and let it fall away and never talk about it. Maybe that was a good thing.

For now the thought of being with Keith, creating a halo in Keith's hair with his hands, trailing his hands down his skin and kissing him. Cracking the ice and falling into the jaws of a shark. That would be Lance's favourite worst nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. you should always wear a helmet when on a motorcycle   
> 2\. breaking and entering is bad


	4. already falling

Pidge's room is a mess. Unlike Keith's single mattress, dresser and his stack of books that doubled as a night stand with a lamp resting on top—Pidge's room looked like a tornado had hit it. Laptop chargers and wires strewn across the floor, a blanket that spilled off the bed, a slightly tilted trans flag hung up behind her bed, posters everywhere on the walls and ceilings. Her backpack was thrown beside her bed, unzipped, all of her folders and books emptied onto the floor and music was booming from her laptop, causing the room to bounce. Keith sat cross legged on one of the only clear spaces on the ground while Pidge laid across her bed typing away on her laptop. He was reading all the titles on Pidge's posters for the third time.

_Donnie Darko, I Want To Believe, The Loch Ness Monster Photographed in 1934—_

Pidge let out a loud groan of frustration causing Keith to look away from the posters. She slammed her laptop closed, the music that was playing abruptly cut off with it. "Can't focus," she mumbled, rubbing at her eyes.

"You alright?" Keith asked, twirling one of the laptop cables around his finger.

"Tired," Pidge said, "too much work to do."

"Oh," Keith nodded, acting as if he understood what she was going through. He tried his best to support Pidge whenever he could, which had included picking her up from school earlier so she could skip last period Phys Ed and work on other assignments instead.

Keith watched as Pidge leaned over her bed shoving her laptop back into her backpack and quickly sliding all the folders back in. Zipping her backpack up again and grabbing her phone off the night stand she swung herself off the bed, throwing her bag over her shoulders.

"Let's go."

"Where?" Keith asked as Pidge pulled open her window and stuck her head out. He didn't really want to leave, he liked Pidge's place. It was way quieter than where he lived and it was alway warm. The walls had photographs of her family framed, all straightened with them smiling in places where their would be cracks in Keith's walls. Her dog's barks bounced around the rooms and Pidge's parents always smiled at Keith and invited him to stay for dinner—they didn't look at him like he was a ink stain on their white couches. If Keith had a home Pidge's would be the closest to it.

"Coran's Diner," Pidge answered. She stuck a leg out the window then pulled the rest of herself off onto the fire escape.

Keith got up off his seat on the floor, kicked away a couple of empty disc holders and a stray purple dress then followed Pidge out the window. He shut the window behind them and they take the steps two at a time to the bottom of the building. Pidge started telling him about all the homework and studying she had to do, the afternoon rain is at a drizzle and the water droplets embedded themselves in Keith's hair. They rounded their way deeper into downtown, the place was completely different than how it was at night. Teenagers who'd been let out of school were waiting at their bus stops and walking down the streets, entering and leaving stores. Some with umbrellas open huddled underneath, others splashing in the puddles. He and Pidge blended in well enough with them.

They continued to walk down the street, past the nightclubs that were closed, their neon signs switched off—replaced with the warmth of the cafes and ice cream shops, little boutiques and antique stores. It was almost like the city flipped into a parallel universe in the morning. Rotting at night, blooming come morning. They passed the brick wall covered in peeling posters of old music festivals and city notices, all spotted in raindrops now.

"Keith, did you hear what I said?" Pidge asked.

Hearing his name broke Keith out of the trance he was in, "Oh, uh, what?"

"You're zoning out more than usual, what's up with you?" Pidge questioned, shifting the weight of her bag.

 _Lance_ , Keith immediately thought. Lance was what has sent Keith's world off it's axis lately. He found himself thinking about him more than he wanted to, hearing his voice and imagining the things he'd say if he was with him. Everything seemed to remind him of Lance these days. He'd shoved himself into Keith's life, filling up his atmosphere and Keith didn't have a way to get him out. But he couldn't tell Pidge that.

"Don't know, just tired or something," Keith muttered, hoping the subject would change.

Pidge sent him a disbelieving look but she shrugged it off. They reached Coran's Diner and Keith pulled open the door, the bell made a familiar jingle. Pidge and him sat themselves in the back. He'd sat in the same booth before, with Lance. Except he'd been on the other side where Pidge was sitting now and Lance had been where he was. The jukebox wasn't  on and only the patter of rain against glass and the steady chatter filled the diner. A waiter came to take their order, Keith only asked for a glass of water while Pidge ordered a milkshake and a burger. She already has her laptop back out, typing quickly again. Keith just watched, Pidge was nothing short of a genius—she'd skipped three grades and was still at the top of her class.

Despite their three year age difference they'd basically grown up together. Matt, her brother, had been Shiro's only friend outside of the gang so they'd spend a lot of time at Holt's. Keith remembered the times when he was younger and things got especially bad at their apartment how he and Shiro would walk all the way to the Holt's and Matt would sneak them inside. Pidge and him had always gotten along well, they believed in all the same conspiracy theories and cryptology and loved the same shitty movies. She was probably his best (and maybe only) friend.

The food arrived quickly and Keith stirred the ice in his glass around with his straw. Pidge let out a long sigh, holding her milkshake in one hand. She slouched back into her seat, pulling her free hand through her long hair, "Ever think we could run away?"

Before Keith could help it he started to laugh.  _Running away_. Now that was a concept. "And go where?" he asked.

Pidge was grinning too, "Maybe Scotland, we can open a tavern and you can wear a kilt and I'll play the bagpipes on the street for extra money and we'll save up enough to buy a boat and then at night we'll search for Nessie."

"What is it with your obsession with the Loch Ness Monster?" Keith asked. The thought of Scotland whirred in his mind, he wasn't sure whether or not he could work a kilt.

"She's my girlfriend, you know that," Pidge reminded.

"Right, right," Keith said. "But have you considered going to Puerto Rico. I don't know about you but I'd love to have the Chupacabra as a pet. We'd live on a farm, make a humble living and feed him all the chickens and goats he wants."

"Or," Pidge started and proceeded to explain an in depth plan to steal a boat and take a year long tour searching for the giant squid while making detours to all the other cryptic hotspots. They start forming plan and Pidge created a whole document on her laptop, abandoning her lab report. In the back of his mind Keith heard his own conscience taunting him, reminding him that it was all a joke. Pidge would never actually want to run away, not when everything she loved was with her and Keith would never be able to run away, not when he was so tightly bound to where he was. He  _knew_ it but it didn't stop the disappointment growing in his stomach every time he remembered that he'd have to be back in his blank canvas room soon.

Pidge took the last bite of her burger, they'd just finished researching how much renting an apartment in Scotland would cost and the jukebox was finally playing a song. " _Shit_ ," she slapped a hand to her forehead. "I still have to finish my lab report." Keith felt slightly guilty since he'd been the one distracting her.

"Right, sorry, I should probably go anyways," Keith said.

"Don't apologize," Pidge shook her head. "Are you going back to your place?"

Keith thought about it for a second, giant squids and Loch Ness monsters swimming in his head. The last place he wanted to be was his apartment. "No," he answered. Then he called over the waiter and ordered a chocolate milkshake.

Pidge watched with eyebrows raised as the waiter left, "Keith, I don't know if you remember or not but you're lactose intolerant you're not supposed to be drinking milkshakes. I don't know if this is some slow suicide attempt but—"

"It's not for me," Keith interrupted.

"Then who's it for?" Pidge asked.

"Uh, just a friend," he responded. Keith realized he probably should've agreed with the slow suicide attempt thing, it would've been easier to explain then him having another friend. Fortunately Pidge didn't interrogate him further and went back to her lab report. The milkshake arrived in a styrofoam to go cup, a red straw popping out from the lid.

Keith paid for the meal and was about to leave with the drink when Pidge spoke up again, "Have fun with your boyfriend."

"My  _what_?" Keith choked. He can feel his face going red and hot.

Pidge is leaning forward on her elbows, head resting in both of her hands. The most evil smirk plastered on her face, she resembled Matt so much in the moment, Keith was successfully creeped out. "Your boyfriend," she repeated.

"I don't have a boyfriend," Keith denied. He didn't. He had Lance and Lance was just a  _friend_. Lance had made that pretty clear when he'd never brought up the pool moment after it'd happened.

"I've heard you whispering his name in your sleep Keith, don't lie," Pidge's grin seemed to grow even wider.

Keith was at a loss for words, "Wha—I do not."  _Has he?_

"So you do have a boyfriend!"

"What—no, I didn't?" Keith stumbled over his words then realized what he'd said and how Pidge had twisted his words. Trust Pidge to know exactly what was going on in Keith's life without him ever mentioning it. "He's not my boyfriend."

"Whatever man, I can't believe you're cheating on Mothman," Pidge giggled.

Keith rolled his eyes at her, "Very funny."

"In all honesty Keith I'm just glad you've found someone."

"He's not my boyfriend," Keith groaned.

"Yeah, yeah just go already," Pidge waved him off, returning to her laptop.

Keith debated on whether or not to argue further but decided to leave it. He shoved Pidge's shoulder as a goodbye then left out the door of the diner. It was starting to rain harder, Keith quickly walked down the block to the bus stop. In a minute it was there, he paid in coins and stood, one hand gripping the milkshake tight and the other holding onto a handle above him. There was a couple of teenagers talking loudly about an upcoming math test and a few other stragglers probably on their way home. Keith kept to himself, pulling the yellow cord when he was about to reach the stop by Lance's apartment. The bus came to a stop and Keith left out the front door, thanking the bus driver.

He crossed the road, walked for about a minute until he was at the familiar grey building. There were a couple of kids outside running around in the parking lot and he could see the underpass close by. Keith entered the apartment through the front door, then cursed as he realized he didn't have the key to get through the next set. He glanced over to the buzzer machine, he went through the list of tenants searching for  _McClain_ but before he had the chance to buzz in an old lady opened the door, a dog barking at her feet. She smiled at Keith as he caught he door before it shut again.

The lobby was small, two elevators in front of him, a bench to the left and the mailroom to the right. He stood in front of the elevator for a second before he met his next problem.  _He doesn't know which floor Lance's apartment is on_. Even if he had known, he didn't have the apartment number either. Keith wondered how he'd gotten himself here, how stupid he'd been to come. He never thought anything through. He could text Lance but that'd be weird what was he supposed to say? That he'd randomly decided to show up at his apartment without knowing his apartment number.

Just as he was about to leave, giving up and accepting defeat a familiar face emerged from the mailroom. For a second Keith thought it was Lance. He was about to call his name but then he noticed that Lance was a little shorter than this guy. Not-Lance's hair was longer and lighter than Lance's, though they both had the same body shape. He had the same eyes too and skin tone, generally the same face exempt of the freckles. Keith struggled for a moment trying to remember the names of Lance's family members. This one wasn't Louis, Louis was older, he wasn't Lance's nephew—Neo, Neo was six.  _Sonny_.

Keith must've said his name out loud because Sonny immediately looked up from the envelopes in his hands and locked eyes with Keith, obviously confused. "Uh hi," Keith said, "I'm one of Lance's friends."

"Oh," Sonny nodded, he walked up the elevator and pressed the button with arrow pointing upwards. "You're here to see him?"

Keith nodded. He couldn't remember whether Sonny was seventeen or eighteen. He did know that Lance was closest to him than any of his other siblings, that people often mistaked them to be twins. The elevator door opened and they both got in. Sonny pushed the button for floor seven, Keith noted it in his head. The doors closed and the elevator began to go up, Keith could feel Sonny's eyes on him but he tried to ignore it. He pretended to be immensely interested in the flickering lights above the doors that went up one every time they reached the next floor.

"You're Keith, right? The one with the motorcycle?" Sonny asked.

"Yeah," Keith replied, finally meeting Sonny's gaze.  His eyes were the exact shade Lance's were. Keith was about to ask how he knew that he rode a motorcycle and if that meant Lance talked about him but the elevator doors opened to the seventh floor. Sonny got out of the elevator first and Keith followed behind him to their apartment. They passed a couple doors, a few with papers taped to the front reading " _No junk mail,"_ a couple others had religious symbols up. They stopped in front of  _735_ and Sonny opened the already unlocked door.

Keith was immediately met with the sound of laughter and some children's television show. There was a distinct smell of spices in the air, none of which Keith could name. He shut the door behind him and almost tripped on the stray shoes in front of the door. There were sneakers haphazardly thrown on the shoe rack along with sandals and rain boots. The shoe Keith had tripped on was a bright pink croc, he pushed it over to the side. There was a half opened closet to Keith's other side that was filled neatly with jackets and coats.

"Lance!" Sonny called out. "Your friend is here."

Lance's voice shouted back from another corner of the apartment, "Who? Is it Hunk?"

Sonny didn't reply, he threw off his sandals and then he walked in leaving Keith at the entrance. Keith took off his own shoes, trailing after Sonny, past the kitchen into a large room. Starting as a dining room then opening up into a living area. The dining table had a floral print table cloth draped across it, a bowl of fruits was in the centre and someone's laptop and binder were left there. The binder was open and papers crammed with notes littered the table. A little hutch with glass doors, to the left of the table held stacked plates and an array of glasses and cutlery. The walls were covered in framed pictures and paintings.

At the farther side of the room there was an old brown leather couch, with obvious dips, worn from how much use it had been exposed to. Across from it was a TV stand, the television was on and Keith could see cartoon animals on the screen overly bright and coloured. The shelves around the television seemed to be filled with books, photographs in frames and other little decorations. In the space between the television and the couch there was a coffee table that was currently covered in nail polish bottles, some standing other knocked over to their side. Lance was kneeling on the ground in front of the couch holding onto a girl's wrist painting her nails a teal colour. She looked about six, maybe seven. A boy who looked the same age as the girl was sat in front of the television, focused on whatever the animals were talking about. His hands were splayed out on the ground in front of him, fingernails painted purple. Keith assumed these were Lance's niece and nephew, Isabel and Neo.

Sonny dropped the pile of envelopes in his hand onto the dining table. Lance turned at the sound, mouth halfway open, probably to say something to Sonny when he saw Keith. His mouth shut, his eyes widened for a second and Keith thought he saw a slight look of worry but then he was back to normal, beaming. "Keith what're you doing here?" Lance gestured at him to come over with the hand holding the nail polish brush. Keith did, crossing the room and then sitting beside Lance on the carpet. Sonny sprawled himself out onto the couch.

Lance was wearing a faded pair of black joggers and an oversized white tee that slipped down his shoulders, it had been messily cut into a crop top. His entire stomach was exposed so Keith could see the two koi fish that were swimming down his hip. There were pink Hello Kitty clips pinning his hair back off his forehead and childish drawings done in black pen covered his arms. Keith had never seen Lance like this and suddenly he couldn't believe that Lance was the same boy he'd patched back up in the bathroom of Coran's Diner, flirting with Keith despite the cuts and bruises. Now it seemed impossible, Lance was a completely different person. He was just a teenager who went to high school and took care of his family and did what normal people  _did_. Keith suddenly felt completely out of place and started beginning to wish he hadn't come. This was Lance's life and Keith had no place in it.

"Just, um wanted to stop by," Keith admitted. He glanced down and saw the milkshake in his hand.  _Right._ "Also I brought you this," Keith placed the milkshake on the table. For some reason he could feel heat rising in his cheeks and he wasn't sure why he was getting so embarrassed over a milkshake. Before his entire face could go red though Neo grabbed the milkshake off the table.

"Neo, put it down! Your nail polish isn't fully dry yet be careful," Lance warned. He let go of Isabel's hand and took the milkshake out of Neo's hands before he could take a sip. "And you're supposed to ask before you take things that aren't yours," Lance reminded his nephew. Keith was a little in awe, Lance had told him stories about him and his family but Keith had never gotten to experience uncle Lance until now.

"Can I please have your milkshake?" Neo asked, his blue eyes filled with childlike pleading.

"No but you can have a sip," Lance said, holding out the cup, "you're not supposed to have this much sugar anyways. Your dad would get mad if I let you."

"Wait," the interruption came from Sonny and he pulled Lance's arms back away from Neo. "You can have a sip once you get the remote back from wherever you hid it and give it to me."

"But Detective Calvin the Cat is about to figure out the mystery!" Neo protested.

"You've already watched this episode, you know the ending already," Sonny pointed out.

"But—"

"Don't you have school work Neo? Just give Sonny the remote and you can start on that," Lance reasoned.

Neo wasn't happy with that compromise and the three boys continued to go back and forth. Keith thought about just leaving, he was pretty sure none of them would notice anyways. He'd just about made up his mind when he felt a poke on his shoulder. Keith turned to find Isabel looking up at him. She shared the same blue eyes that all her other family members had and her dark brown hair tumbled past her shoulders, a plastic tiara perched on her head.

"Who're you?" she asked. She was obviously accustomed to her brother and uncles arguing and it didn't seem to bother her.

"I'm Keith," he answered. Kids didn't usually take an interest in him and Keith had never really liked them either. The feelings had always been mutual between him and children. Isabel's sudden interest in him had definitely surprised him a bit.

"I'm Isabel," she said, "are you one of uncle Lance's friends?"

Keith nodded.

"He has a lot of friends," Isabel observed. She stretched out her arms in front of her, three of her nails had yet to be painted. "I have a lot of friends too," she told Keith. From there she continued into a full story about her friends and school and what she and her friends did together at school. Keith hadn't been prepared for the amount of grade one gossip Isabel was letting him in on.

Keith noticed that Isabel talked the same way Lance did. Stories piling on top of stories. Tripping over words but still managing to keep it entertaining nonetheless (as entertaining as elementary school stories could go). Somehow Keith had become completely immersed in Isabel's story about how she had been line leader for the day. Somewhere along the way the channel on the television switched from cartoon to sports and Neo had started doing his homework. Lance had taken back Isabel's hand and was painting the last nail. Isabel was on another story about how some boy named Robert had talked back to the teacher.

"No he didn't," Lance gasped after hearing what the infamous Robert had said. He'd called the teacher ' _stupid_ ', compared to what Keith had called his professor Iverson after he'd been expelled it seemed pretty fucking tame to him. But he could see how scandalous it would've been in first grade so he put on a shocked face for Isabel. "You're done," Lance said, letting go of her hand, "let it dry out okay?"

Isabel nodded then went to sit down beside Neo and help him with his homework. Keith noticed Lance's nails were also painted a blue colour. He must've done them sometime in that last two days since Keith hadn't noticed them before. The colour suited Lance, it matched his eyes.

"You want me to do you?" Lance asked.

Keith isn't sure if he heard it right and it takes him a second to fully understand what Lance had said. The heat returned to Keith's face and he can't believe Lance had just said that. Was he joking? Keith was sure he was having a heart attack because the room shouldn't be  _this_ hot surely. He slowly looked up to meet Lance's gaze and was glad to find that he looked equally as horrified as Keith felt. "I mean—not like that, you were staring at the nail polish so," Lance continued to stumble over his words, "I meant do you want me to paint your nails but it, it came out wrong—I didn't mean it, you know. I wouldn't say something like that  _here_."

Something about the way Lance said it and how flustered and embarrassed he looked and the fact that he was blushing too, all the way up to his ears relieved Keith and he couldn't help his laugh. Luckily it only took Lance a couple seconds until he was laughing with Keith too. No one seemed to have heard what Lance had said except for Keith, fortunately. Sonny had been too focused on the television and even if Neo and Isabel had heard they wouldn't know what it meant. "Well do you want me to paint your nails?" Lance asked again, once they'd stopped laughing and caught their breaths.

Keith looked at Lance's blue nail polish then Neo's purple and Isabel's teal and decided it wouldn't hurt. "Yeah, I guess," he shrugged.

He moved to sit across from Lance at the coffee table, setting his right hand down in front of him. "I think red'll look good on you," Lance said.

Keith pulled up the sleeves of his sweatshirt as Lance opened the bottle of nail polish and took the brush in one hand while taking Keith's hand in the other. Last time they'd held hands (if this even counted as holding hands), Lance's hands had been cold—both of them wet with pool water. As much as Keith wanted to forget about their pool rendezvous from a week ago it kept finding a way back to him. The haze of the water, the sky black above them, chlorine stuck to his skin and burning his throat. And Lance, hair messy, eyes glowing and his  _body_ , Keith had thought he looked like a god.

Then there were the tattoo, flowers blooming off his chest. Wrapping around Keith and he couldn't help but touch it because the flowers seemed to growing off Lance and tangling themselves in Keith hands until his palms were overflowing with petals and leaves and planets, koi fish swimming around them in the pool. Everything was so alive, Lance's chest rising up and down as he breathed and Keith had thought no matter how fast he drove it would never match up to what was happening then. When Lance pulled Keith's hand away everything had stopped and the world had frozen around them. Keith's heart had been beating uncontrollably fast and Lance was coming closer. Then a thorn had pricked Keith's wrist and Lance had let go. Vines had fallen away, petals sank to the bottom of the pool, the koi fish vanished and the world started spinning again. They'd left and Lance didn't bring it up at the underpass or anytime after that so Keith didn't either.

Lance's hand was warm now, his grip loose on Keith's wrist. He'd finished painting the first three nails while Keith has been lost in thought, the red was bright against his skin. "Is it okay?" Lance asked.

"Yeah it's fine," Keith replied. Pidge had painted his nails for him before but he'd always gone with black. Red was new but he liked it.

"Are you staying for dinner?" Lance's eyes were focused on Keith's hand.

"I don't know," Keith said, he didn't want to go back to his place but he didn't know if it was okay to stay either.

Lance looked up at Keith, "Stay."

The rain hitting the glass of the sliding door that lead out to the balcony got louder. There's a rumble of thunder, the warning of a storm.

"Okay," Keith said.

-

Keith had only intended to stay for dinner at the latest but when it came to Lance, whatever he intended never seemed to work. Somewhere along the timeline of Lance painting his nails, watching some Disney movie with him and the twins, meeting Lance's eldest brother Louis and his parents then eating dinner, he'd ended up on Lance's bedroom floor surrounded by blankets and pillows. Keith laid down on his makeshift bed, listening to the sound of the running shower that was coming from the other end of Lance's bathroom door.

He had  _tried_  to leave. After Louis had left with Neo and Isabel, he'd taken it as his queue to leave as well. Just as he had been about to tell Lance that he'd better be getting back to his place, Lance had grabbed his wrist and led him in front of a closet in the hallway. He'd shoved a couple blankets and pillows in Keith's arms and before Keith knew it he was bidding goodnight to Lance's parents then being shoved inside his room. Lance had thrown him pajamas from his dresser, told Keith to ' _make himself at home,'_ then had disappeared into the bathroom to take a shower. Keith had found himself yet again reading all the posters on the wall, this time Lance's instead of Pidge's.

Lance's room reminded Keith a lot of Pidge's, the same sort of organized chaos. The many posters plastered to the wall and photographs that were taped above his desk, a string of switched off fairy lights that was strung across his room. Drawers to his dresser were wide open and stray clothes littered the floor around it. His desk was covered in notebooks, papers, pencils that had been chewed on and stacks of books. It was like every corner of the room screamed  _Lance_ , from the Star Wars sheets on the bed to the star charts on his wall to the lava lamp he had on his bed side table. It was almost overwhelming to Keith.

_The Megalodon Shark, Selena, Failure is Not an Option, Spirited Away—_

The bathroom door swung open. Keith diverted his attention from the posters to see Lance emerging, hair damp and clad in pajamas. He switched the bathroom lights off and shut the door before grinning at Keith, "Miss me?"

Keith sat back up from his blankets, "You wish."

Lance stuck his tongue out at him then made his way towards him. Stepping over Keith, he fell onto his bed with a creak, he leaned over and dropped his head down to look at Keith. "Want the lights on or off?" Lance asked.

"Off, I guess," Keith frowned. "Do you not turn them off when you sleep?"

Lance smiled wide and shook his head at him, "Oh Keith."

He moved away from Keith to his bed side table, with a  _click_ the light from his lamp switched off and the room went dark. There were more creaks from Lance's bed as he settled in, then finally he explained, "This is a  _sleepover._ Nobody actually sleeps during sleepovers, definitely not this early."

"But  _sleep_  is in the name," Keith pointed out as he laid back down. He knew exactly what a sleepover was and how it worked but he liked getting Lance to explain it. Also he was tired and sleeping sounded good at the moment.

"No," Lance tsked. "You've got it all wrong buddy. We're supposed to talk like, uh—how'd you like my family?"

Keith knew it was bait to get him talking but he didn't want to just ignore the question, he knew how much Lance loved his family. "They're cool, they're a lot like you," Keith said.

They were, all of them just as expressive as Lance. Dinner had been quite the affair with all the talking, hand gestures and flurries of laughter as everyone went over stories from their day and what was on their mind. They'd even managed to include Keith, Lance's mother had asked him all these questions—about how he'd met Lance (he'd said they'd met at the diner and left out the whole stitching up part) and what his hobbies were which brought up a whole conversation on his motorcycle. Neo and Isabel had even hugged Keith before they'd left even though they'd only known him for a couple hours.  _Cool_ was an understatement of Lance's family they were warm and loving and  _good_ down to their very core.

"Like me?" Lance questioned.

"Yeah, you know—they're really nice."

"You think I'm  _really_ nice?" Lance cooed. Keith didn't even have to see him to know he was smiling.

"Don't make me take it back," Keith warned, though he kept his tone light hearted.

"Aw come on Keith," Lance teased. "Just admit you like me."

"'Course I like you," Keith said, "you're my friend."

Lance didn't reply, the silence stretched long enough that Keith started to think he'd said something wrong. He had a tendency to reply too fast before actually understanding what the other person had said. By  _like me_ , Lance couldn't have meant anything more than friends right? He remembered the fleeting look of worry that had passed over Lance's face from earlier when he'd first seen Keith. Keith's stomach dropped, maybe Lance  _didn't_  actually want him here.

Then Lance's voice broke his train of thoughts, "You're my friend too."

Lance's voice was soft and it caused Keith to tense up and his heart to stutter. He silently thanked the universe that it was dark because he felt the blush rising in his cheeks. Desperately Keith tried to think of anything to say to change the subject.

"I've never been to a sleepover," Keith blurted out. It was true though, he'd never been very social at school, his friends limited to other people in the gang and even then he wouldn't call them  _friends_. Pidge was the only one really and he'd never counted him staying over at her place as a  _sleepover_. Hiding out was not the same thing as a sleepover. Anyways he'd never cared too much, not being invited to sleepovers were the least of his worries.

"That's a shame man," Lance sighed. Keith heard the bed creak as he shifted. "You missed out, Pokemon card battles, watching horror movies when the parents were finally asleep, talking about girls, nerf guns, pepperoni pizza and throwing Mentos in pop bottles," he reminisced. "Those were the days."

"Doesn't sound that great," Keith said, "too messy."

"You're only saying that cause you never got to experience it," Lance pointed out, "but don't worry. We'll just do it all now. Unfortunately I gave all my Pokemon cards to Neo so that's off the list, we already watched a movie and dropping Mentos in pop bottles isn't a good idea right now."

"Some sleepover." Keith turned to his side, pulling the blanket closer to him. He could hear the cars driving down the street and the distant bark of a dog outside the window.

"There's one thing left on the list though," Lance started, "talking about—"

"Lance, I'm gay."

Lance didn't even miss a beat and continued on as if he hadn't heard Keith, "Relationships, whether that be with a girl or a boy."

"You knew?" Keith asked. He hadn't tried to hide it but he also hadn't done anything that would've explicitly hinted at it.

"No, kinda, I mean," Lance paused, "I'm bi so I was gonna talk about girls and boys anyways but yeah."

"Oh nice," Keith suddenly felt extremely awkward. He didn't exactly have a love life to talk about and knowing that Lance also liked boys caused his heart to skip a beat. He'd only ever seen him flirting with girls so he'd never considered. And now all he could think about was how he had a chance and maybe the pool had meant something. Along with all that flirting Lance'd done with Keith that Keith'd initially written off as teasing might mean something too and— _shit, did he like Lance?_

Before he had the chance to answer his own question Lance interrupted Keith's train of thought. "So Kogane how's your love life fairing these days?"

Keith dismissed his own question and tried to find an answer to Lance's. He thought back to the last time anything had happened in his love life, most of it was blurry and all over the place. Occasionally temporary  _somethings_ , but never anything that could last. Nothing that Keith cared about enough to keep. "It's not," Keith answered.

"You're telling me you've never been with anyone before?"

"No, I mean I've been with people," Keith felt the blood rushing back to his cheeks. Talking about his love life with Lance is not how he'd expected his night to end. "I just don't do relationships, long term and stuff."

There was a beat of silence before Lance said,  
"So you're a hit 'em and quit 'em kinda guy."

"No—don't say it like that," Keith groaned. Lance's soft laugh only made things worst, Keith buried his face in his hands. "I just, I mean," Keith tried to explain himself, "the guys I was with—none of them. I don't know they just weren't—" Keith struggled to find words.

"The one?" Lance offered.

"You make it sound so cheesy." Keith ran his hands through his hair, breathing out a sigh.

"That's love for you man, cheesy and disgusting," Lance said. "It's throw up worthy but it's good anyways."

"What about you?" Keith asked. Hoping to get the attention off himself. "How's your love life?"

Lance didn't answer, the silence stretched on until Keith realized that Lance probably fell asleep. Which he found unfair since he'd had to answer personal questions about himself while Lance just got to sleep his away. Keith turned to go to sleep as well but then Lance finally spoke up, catching Keith by surprise. "It's something."'

Now it was Keith's turn to pry. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Not sure."

Keith turned to face the base of Lance's bed, frowning. "You can do better than that," he said.

"I had a girlfriend for awhile," Lance said, quietly. So quiet that Keith almost didn't catch it.

 _Had_.

"What happened?" Keith questioned, calm as he could. Trying his best to keep the urgent curiosity out of his voice.

"Nothing really," Lance said. There was another creak from his bed as he changed positions again. "We both just realized we wanted different things and staying together wouldn't work for either of us in the end. It was mutual, we're still friends."

"What's she like?" Keith asked, in order to keep the conversation going. Curiosity was getting the best of him. He could clearly imagine Lance and his girlfriend, happy and normal and loving. Holding hands and kissing and being. Two people in a normal relationship. No burning home and drowning in swimming pools. Nothing torn and faded. Something settled heavy in Keith's chest sinking into him until he was completely weighed down. Keith didn't know what to call the new feeling.

"Oh man, her name's Plaxum she's amazing," Lance said. There's a certain softness in the way he said it, obvious fondness. "She's funny, kind, super pretty and really cool. You'd like her, everyone likes her."

"Do you still love her?" Keith blurted out before he could even process what he was asking. His question replayed in his own ears and embarrassment hung around him. He hadn't actually meant to ask and certainly not so bluntly. Somehow it still managed to spill out, would Lance be mad at the intrusiveness?

"No," Lance answered a second later. Keith let out a breath he'd been holding in relief, Lance wasn't angry. "I don't think I ever loved her, not in that way at least. I liked her and I maybe could've loved her. She'd be easy to love but I didn't. Maybe if I'd tried harder to stay with her it would've grown into love," Lance paused and Keith isn't sure what to say. Luckily he's saved from a response as Lance continued, "You can't really force love though. Most of the time it's just happens I guess, spontaneous. You can't choose who per se, you can guide your heart but in the end it only helps so much. Love comes in the most unexpected places, there's nothing you can do about it."

He'd said the last part in a whisper, there's a degree of sadness in his voice that Keith isn't sure what to make of. Part of him wants to reach out to Lance and squeeze his hand, find the root of his pain and pull away his sadness. Of course he knew he couldn't do that so he settled with another question. "Are you in love with someone now?"

"I—" Lance started but quickly stopped. Keith felt the world pause, the wind outside the window halting, tides frozen in place and everything stilled. Waiting and waiting for Lance's answer. Listening for the words. Keith's own heart stopped beating and his breath caught in his throat.

Then Lance breathed out, "Dunno, I'm just tired." Everything turned on again and the tides rushed back into it's constant back and forth, the wind pushed against the window. Keith's heart stuttered back into it's constant pace.

"Oh," Keith said. He was slightly disappointed with the response but he wasn't going to push Lance into saying more if he didn't want to. "Goodnight Lance."

"Night Keith."

Silence fell around the room. Keith shut his eyes, trying to will sleep onto himself but no matter how many times he tossed and turned he stayed wide awake. A hundred sheep passed by and he was still up, mind lost in thought as he over analyzed the entire day. Playing back his last conversation with Lance over and over again.  _Love comes in the most unexpected places._

Keith kept ending up at the same question—did he like Lance? Sure he liked hanging out with him and talking to him. He liked Lance's smile and laugh and even his stupid jokes. Keith felt awfully like a middle schooler as he thought it over. The times his heart raced and how he got goosebumps when Lance came close enough or he touched him. And of course the night at the pool found it's way back into his thoughts. If Lance had kissed him back there would he have kissed back?

Then there was a touch at his jaw, a finger trailed across the edge and Keith froze. It had to be Lance, he must've thought that Keith had fallen asleep. Keith kept his eyes closed as Lance pressed his palm to his cheek. His hand was warm against Keith's skin and something fluttered in Keith's stomach. It took all his willpower not to cover Lance's hand in his own, making sure Lance couldn't move away from him. The silence laid thick around them and Keith's world imploded as he got his answer.

 _Yes,_ he would've kissed Lance back at the pool.

 _Yes,_ he liked Lance.

Lance's palm vanished and Keith's skin grew cold again. If there had been any minuscule chance he could've slept tonight it was gone now. Questions were replaced with fear now because Keith was overflowing with feelings he wasn't sure how to deal with. They were spilling everywhere around him and no matter how hard he tried to clean them up they slipped out of reach again.

Keith had told Lance he didn't do relationships. He wasn't lying, relationships were risky. Tying yourself to someone, trusting them, giving yourself up. It was dangerous and vulnerable and everything Keith couldn't bring himself to do. He lived by the no strings attached rule. Everyone leaves and the hurt that comes after isn't one Keith would like to deal with again. So he kept guarded, pushed people away, let his feelings pile up inside himself. Those were the rules, so far they'd kept him safe.

Yet he could imagine it. Being with Lance.  Going over to his apartment and watching movies, playing with Isabel and Neo, helping with dinner. Holding Lance's hand, laying his head on his shoulder as the rain pattered against the windows. Kissing Lance, forehead, nose, lips. Lance's palm pressed against his cheek, Keith's fingers tangled in his hair. Lance being  _his_. It was so easy for Keith to see and it terrified him.

When Keith had still been in school he'd learned about the Fates, in the mythology unit they'd done. Three women who weaved out your destiny using thread. Spinning and measuring then finally cutting. Maybe it was childish but Keith had always believed in myths so he believed in the fates. He'd come to  
the conclusion that they hated him. They were the ones that spun his mother away from him and cut the lifeline of his father. They were the ones that forced him into a gang, they spun his life out with so much violence. Cutting into him but not enough to kill yet. Now they'd intertwined his thread with Lance's until they were all tangled together.

This was the beginning of the end and Keith knew it. Keith couldn't be with Lance, he didn't belong here. No matter what the Fates did Keith refused to ruin Lance's life with his own messed up tapestry. Lance had a family and ambitions. He has a normal life without the dangers that Keith had. He deserved someone better, somebody who's thread wasn't so worn and beaten.

Keith knew how his story would end. He'd known it since he was fifteen and he'd messed up one of gang's commands and his chest had ended up blue and black. He had been broken enough and he wasn't about to let Lance break into him too.

Keith waited for Lance's breathing to even out, he wasn't sure how long he took but it felt like hours. Eventually Lance fell into a deep sleep and Keith quietly rose from his pile of blankets and pillows. Quickly he threw his clothes back on, folding Lance's pajamas that he'd borrowed neatly and placing it on top of his dresser. He felt his way through the darkness of the room until he reached the door handle. Keith looked back for a second, he could see Lance's sleeping body sprawled out on the bed, his chest rising and falling.

Something in Keith ached but he pushed it back down. He left, shutting Lance's door behind him. Then quiet as he could as not to wake anyone Keith was out the door of the apartment. Down the hall, down the elevator, through the lobby and back outside. The air still somewhat damp from the thunderstorm, Keith shivered. He was already starting to miss the warmth in Lance's room but this was for the best.

Holding onto his heart, Keith walked away from the apartment building. Away from Lance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the late update i had to rewrite like half of this chapter cause i changed a bunch of things ughsjkdjs and it ended up way longer than what i had intended it to be but anyways i hope you guys liked it!


	5. you are something

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SO SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING BUT IM BACK NOW!!  
> I've been really busy with school and extra curriculars and I haven't found to time to write, edit and publish ughshsgsg along with that I've been trying to distance myself from the vld fandom a bit (maybe a lot) bc all the negativity and shit was getting to me and I just needed a break. But season 4 came out 2 weeks ago and there was such a lack of a klance content so I had to return lmao but yeee new chapter!!! I'm so sorry that it's so late!

The record store was having a slow day. A few straggling customers had come in but for the most part it remained empty. The soft sound of the vinyl playing on the record player and the tinkering of Hunk working away at a stereo was lulling Lance to sleep. He'd stayed up the night before finishing an essay and then woken up early for swim practise, all the tiredness that had been building up since school was starting to crash onto him all at once. Lance wondered if Allura would get mad if he took a nap on the job.

He was about to let his eyes droop closed when a loud clang of metal hitting the ground behind him jolted him awake again. "Whoops," Hunk chirped.

Lance groaned, dropping his head onto the counter in front of him. He just wanted to go home and crash into his couch and take a nap that spanned a whole week. "You okay?" Hunk asked. Lance got up from the cool wood of the desk and  swivelled around on his stool so he could face Hunk who was placing the fallen tools back on the table. Taking a deep breath he decided to let all his pent up frustration out. If he couldn't nap then he could rant at least.

"No, I'm tired and I don't wanna be here. Also I've got piles of homework waiting for me at home, I'm barely getting any sleep at night, did I mention I'm tired? And—" Lance was forced to stop his rant when the door of the record store opened with a jingle. Spinning back to the front he forced a smile he was sure looked more like a grimace and greeted the customer. Luckily she was gone fairly quickly after picking out a record, Lance had rung her up on the register and managed to produce a ' _Have a nice day!'_ when she left.  

The door swung close again and Lance was burying his face in his arms as he went back to resting his forehead on the counter. He felt Hunk's reassuring hand on his back but even that didn't help calm his nerves. "Hey Lance it's okay," Hunk comforted, "you're just stressed and not getting enough rest. You've got a lot going on. Want me to go to Slav's Coffee Shop, get you something to eat?"

Lance shook his head. If he ate something now he'd probably throw up anyways. "Well you wanna talk about school then? I could help you with your homework if you want?" Hunk offered.

Lance shook his head again, he was supposed to meet Allura at the diner tomorrow afternoon so she could help him with homework. The last thing he needed now was to stare at equations and definitions. "Alright, we'll talk about something else entirely then," Hunk said. Lance felt his hand vanish as he probably turned back to the broken stereo he was fixing. "Are you excited for Nyma's surprise party?"

"Oh," Lance frowned. He had forgotten all about the party. He felt almost-guilty since Allura had been talking about the party she was throwing for her girlfriend's birthday nonstop and if Hunk hadn't just reminded him Lance would've probably forgot to go. "Yeah, totally excited," he said.

"You forgot didn't you?" Hunk asked, Lance could hear the smile in his voice. 

"No," Lance protested, rising up from the counter again. He turned on the stool again to face Hunk about to plead his case but Hunk's knowing look stopped him. "Maybe," he admitted, scratching the back of his neck. Hunk started laughing and even though Lance felt a little embarrassed something about it made him feel better. Hanging out with Hunk, making him laugh—all of it was so normal, like his world wasn't ending. It lifted his mood, warmth spreading into his body.

Hunk began talking about the party, the decorations, the guest list, the cake Allura had asked him to bake for it. Lance listened intently, letting his best friend's voice tether him back to Earth. From what Hunk was saying the party seemed like it was would be pretty good. It was being held on the rooftop of apartment Allura lived in. Filled with all the cheesy party games and snacks, also from the way Hunk explained it his cake was going to be amazing. Lance was started to get excited, maybe it would be a good night.

Hunk had switched over to a story about him and his girlfriend Shay when he paused abruptly and said, "Oh. almost forgot. Allura invited Malia," Hunk shot Lance a knowing grin.

Lance felt another wave of almost-guilt, "Uh, that's cool."

"You don't sound as excited as I thought you would?" Hunk frowned at him. "You're not into her anymore?"

Malia was Lance's latest wooing endeavour. New in the gang and immensely pretty, not to mention badass, clever and funny. She was definitely Lance's type. They'd become friends quickly and he'd been hoping to be  _more_ to her but someone else had gotten in the way of Lance's game plan to win her heart.  _Gotten in the way_ would be an understatement really, Keith had taken the game plan and tore it to shreds and Lance didn't have the means to stop him. He didn't want him to. 

Lance knew being with Malia would've never worked out anyways. She didn't like him anymore than a friend and Lance had realized it was the same way for him. "No, she's cool but I'm not into her that way anymore," Lance answered. He leaned back into the counter, the edge pressed into his back.  _Stupid Keith, with his stupid mullet and stupid pretty eyes and stupid smile and stupid laugh—_

Hunk glanced back at Lance. "Really? But you have that lovey look on your face," he observed.

"What lovey look?" Lance didn't feel  _lovey._

"You know the one you get when you like someone," Hunk gestured vaguely. "Your eyes get all narrowed and soft and you look off far away, lost in lovey thoughts. You get this small, secretive smile," he explained, doing his best impression of it.

Lance furrowed his eyebrows, "I don't do that."

"Uh, yes you do. You just don't see it but I do. Trust me I'm your best bro I know all your faces," Hunk assured. He turned away from the broken stereo he was working on to lock eyes with Lance. His eyes scanned over Lance which made Lance feel extremely naked. Like he was one of Hunk's machines and Hunk was looking into all of his gears and screws to find the root of how he functioned and where his problems were. "If that face wasn't meant for Malia," Hunk started, slowly, "then it was meant for someone else. But you don't—unless..." Hunk's eyes widened as the realization dawned on him. "You have a crush on someone else!"

Hunk threw his hands on to Lance's shoulders and stared into his eyes. "Why haven't you told me who yet?" Hunk asked, Lance felt almost-guilty again. He always told Hunk everything but he'd kept Keith a secret for obvious reasons. "Doesn't matter, tell me now," Hunk said, seriously.

Lance turned away from Hunk's gaze, focusing intently on the record player behind him. He felt extremely trapped. 'Course he wanted to tell Hunk, he told Hunk everything but this was something he just  _couldn't_. Hunk seemed to notice Lance's uncomfortable demeanour because he removed his hands. "Or you don't have to if you don't want to. It's okay," Hunk said. There was a note of disappointment evident in his voice but Lance knew he was trying to cover it up.

"I—no, it's just," Lance trailed off. He couldn't just tell Hunk about Keith. He knew who Keith was, he knew he was a Galra. Lance isn't sure what Hunk would say if he told him about Keith. Hunk wouldn't get angry, maybe disappointed. Worst of all pity. He'd feel bad that out of all the people Lance had to fall for it had to be Keith, someone who he was supposed to hate.

Then again that could be Lance's own doubt speaking. Hunk had always been nothing but understanding with Lance's troubles. He was there for Lance through thick and thin. He gave him the advice he needed and never left him. Lance isn't sure where he would be without Hunk's guidance and smarts, Hunk always knew how to deal with him. Lance trusted him. If anyone would support him on this it was Hunk.

"You're not gonna like it," Lance sighed. Hunk quirked up an eyebrow but didn't say anything, letting Lance continue. Lance bit the inside of his cheek.  _Keith, it's Keith._ Except every time he tried to open his mouth and say it the words got stuck. Lance let deep breath in then out, his eyes dropped to the floor and then at last in a low voice he managed to say, "Keith Kogane."

No response.

"We—we started talking a couple weeks ago I don't know. It's...it's a long story I guess but he's, he's okay. Not as bad as everyone makes him seem you know? Fuck," Lance paused his rambling to glance quickly up at Hunk. His face was a mixture of conflicting emotions which made Lance's stomach drop.

Lance turned his focus back down at the ground, his legs hanging off the stool, Hunk's sneakers, his backpack thrown in the corner. Lance had been expecting some sort of lecture straight away but the silence stretched on. Lance was starting to regret telling Hunk.

"He's a Galra. One of their best," Hunk said, finally.

"I know." Lance kept his eyes glued below him.

"You're serious? You really like him?" Hunk asked.

"I do." Lance was shrinking, getting tinier until he was minuscule. So much so he he slipped off his chair and fell to the ground that was hundreds of feet away. His backpack was a mountain and Hunk was a giant and the record that was playing is too far away to hear. He liked Keith, this was the first time he'd said it out loud and it felt like a curse he was putting on himself. His heart was beating loudly and it was much too big for his little body.

"Lance." Came Hunk's voice from way up, "If that's who you like I'm okay with it."

Just like that Lance was regular sized again and back on his stool, eyes on Hunk's face. Searching for any sign of disapproval. "Listen," Hunk continued, "The Galra are bad dudes but I trust you. You know Keith and if you think he's good then so do I. I can't stop you from liking him and I wouldn't want to anyways as long as your sure he's okay."

Lance almost felt like crying but he held it back. "Thanks Hunk," he said.

Hunk of course knew how his words had made Lance feel because a second later Lance was being engulfed in his hug. "No problem buddy, I'm always here for you."

When he detached himself Lance couldn't help but smile. Hunk went back to the stereo and all the tension vanished. "So are you gonna like act on your feelings or?" Hunk asked.

"No," Lance said and even he could hear the bitterness in his voice. "Like you said he's a Galra, it's too dangerous for the both of us and he doesn't like me like that anyways."

Keith had been avoiding him for a week now. Lance had woken up the day after he'd come over to find Keith's makeshift bed of loose blankets and pillows empty. When he'd opened his phone he found Keith's explanation text.

 ** _8:43 AM_**  
**_keithy_**

_Sorry had to be somewhere in the morning needed to leave early. Tell your parents I said thank you for everything._

After that there had been no word from Keith. He didn't go to Coran's anymore, he didn't come to Lance's place, he didn't text back. Lance isn't sure what he did but whatever it had been it had pushed Keith away, probably for good. Although it might be a good thing. Ripping off the bandaid now would be much easier than later when everything just got more complicated and Lance's feelings became a bigger mess. They could go back to being strangers and everything would be normal again. At least this was what Lance was trying to convince himself of.

"That's never stopped you before," Hunk said, "the not liking you thing, not the Galra thing." Lance didn't reply.  Hunk didn't press him for more and Lance was glad of it.

Lance turned back to the counter. Hunk was right the Galra thing was an end all. Alteans hate Galras and vice versa, that was a fact. Allura hated Galras and Lance wouldn't know how to convince her otherwise. The only asset he had might be Coran. Coran liked Keith and Allura listened to Coran. Except even if he did manage to convince Allura to be okay with Keith there was no way Zarkon would let Keith go. And even then if Zarkon did let Keith go this all depended on Keith liking him back which seemed pretty unlikely at this point.

"Stereo's fixed," Hunk announced. Lance heard Hunk throwing tools back into the tool box and then he was out of their employee confines. "I'm meeting Shay at Allura's. Come over when your shifts done alright?"

Lance nodded. "See ya Lance," Hunk smiled.

"Bye Hunk," Lance gave him a wave. Hunk left out the door leaving Lance in the empty record store.

The record that had been playing had come to an end. Lance went over to it and moved the stylus over to flip the record to side B. Placing it back on the turntable he rested the stylus on it once again and the room filled with music. Back on his stool Lance stared out into the record store, rows of vinyls organized alphabetically and shelves of cassettes and discs. The walls had large posters of different bands and there were crates with old NME and Rolling Stone magazines.  _Alfor's Records_ , now Allura's. Altean territory which only further reminded Lance of who he was and who Keith was. They were on opposite sides of a chasm.

In tenth grade English class Lance had had to read Romeo and Juliet. The world of Montagues and Capulets so close to Galras and Alteans. The thought of him and Keith being star-crossed lovers almost had Lance bursting out with laughter. Yet, he couldn't help but imagine it in flashes. Forbidden and sinister, biting consequences and violence running through veins, the flash of Keith's knife. Stolen moments, secret weddings bathed in red light, Keith's heart in his hands and every single star seemed to whisper a blessing in the night but they were cursed anyways. Stumbling into the pool but falling all the way,  _goodnights_  that lasted a forever and they were lost in smoke and fire. They swore on the moon but the moon changed every night and promises to run away disappeared. Black and blue bruises and torn skin but no poison. Still destined for doom but no sword's edge.

Just unrequited feelings, still as toxic as poison, still as sharp as a sword.

-

Lance didn't exactly know how they'd ended up at a night club after Nyma's party but he wasn't complaining. Every song pounded against his skull until his heart matched the beat. Bright lights tattooed themselves to Lance's eyes. Allura and Nyma were dancing a few feet away from where he stood at the bar, his other friends are scattered around him. The guy Lance had been flirting with for the last five minutes laughed at some joke he'd made. Everything was in technicolour and Lance felt it all so vividly. Everything breath he took, the colour of the boy's eyes, his own pulse—he was alive and existing and Keith was a myth. Lance had made him up and he didn't exist, he was lost in between seconds counted between each flash of lightening.

Lance listened to the guy—his name might've been Oliver, Lance isn't really sure—going on about some story. Lance smiled and listened though he wasn't paying attention. More concerned with remembering every detail of the night, the sparkle of makeup and Allura's laugh he could hear in the distance. Happy memories he didn't want to loose.

Except Allura's laugh had abruptly turned into a shout of anger. Lance turned away from Maybe-Oliver immediately, he found Allura standing with Nyma, two people who Lance's recognized as Galra in front of them. They started to argue and Lance knew it would get physical. The music sounded slow in his ears now, every light seemed to pinpoint a different member of each gang dousing them in pinks and whites and purples.

There are 604800 seconds in a week. Lance knew this because he counted every second in between each crack of lightening. 604800 seconds since he'd seen Keith but he was here now and Lance's life without lightning was over because the storm was starting again. Keith was hiding by the back wall, watching the fight that was beginning to unfold. He was turned away from Lance but his hair had given him away. Lance knew he should stay where he was, that he shouldn't go to Keith—not here when the both of their gangs were so close but he couldn't stop himself. He was past the bar and the dance floor and part of his head was telling him to stop. He was supposed to stay and if a fight broke out he was supposed to fight too but the other part that was saying  _Go to Keith_  overpowered it. He got to Keith and grabbed him by the wrist, before anyone could see Lance dragged him through groups of people until they were out the back door.

The alleyway they'd ended up in smelled like garbage—which was probably from the gigantic dumpsters but the cool air on Lance's skin was a relief. Keith pulled his wrist away from Lance, "What the fuck?" Keith growled, "Who—Lance?" Keith's expression changed quickly from anger to surprise when he realized who had dragged him out. "What are you doing here?"

"Saving your ass from that fight," Lance said. The alleyway was illuminated by a couple stray yellow lights on the outside walls of the nightclub. Keith looked slightly flushed. His hair was tousled as if he'd been running his hands through it constantly. In his usual black shirt, black jeans, motorcycle gloves attire he looked more like a bouncer than a nightclub goer.

"I should go back in," Keith said, though he didn't seem very eager to. "My gangs part of that fight I have to be there."

"Come on Keith," Lance persuaded, "I'm sure they're capable of getting through one night club fight without you." Lance was half trying to convince Keith and half trying to convince himself that this was a good idea. "Let's go," he pushed on.

"I dunno Lance," Keith said. Conflict evident in his face, Lance watched him go through his inner argument.

Lance isn't sure what it is, maybe it was the fact that he'd had a rough morning and was trying to make up for it or the stench of the garbage was making him crazy but he was feeling a little more—actually a lot more confident than usual because after a minute of silence he got impatient and he took Keith's hand in his, tugging him closer. Keith stared at him with even more confusion, "Lance what're you doing?"

Lance just grinned, "Run away with me Keith."

Keith continued to stare and Lance was beginning to become self aware. He was holding Keith's hand—why had he done that? He'd just asked Keith to run away with him, he'd only meant for the night, at least he thought that was what he'd meant. Had Keith taken it the wrong way? Lance cursed Romeo and Juliet. He was about to let go of Keith and explain himself when Keith said, "Okay."

Lance didn't react right away, stuck processing Keith's  _okay_ and the sure look he was giving him. Then explosions erupted in Lance's chest when he understood that this meant Keith trusted him. That sprung Lance into action and he pulled Keith out of the alleyway into the street. Keith let him lead and he didn't pull away from Lance's grip.

"Where're we going?" he asked as they walked down the sidewalk.

"Coran's," Lance answered.

"Lance it's  _way_  past closing time."

"I know that," he said, "but I have a plan."

"Are you gonna break the window?" Keith asked. Lance turned to look at a pouting Keith who seemed to be actually considering that Lance was going to smash the window and yet he didn't protest.

"No I'm not going to break the window," Lance grinned. "I'm doing something much cooler."

"What?" Keith's pout had turned into a full frown.

"You'll see," Lance assured. He picked up their walking pace and a couple minutes later they were outside the diner. The inside was dark, the sign at the door was flipped to  _CLOSED_.

Reluctantly Lance let go of Keith's hand to begin his plan. He cracked his knuckles then shot Keith his winning smirk, "Watch and learn." He went up to one of the large potted plants and moved it over, crouching down Lance picked up the glinting key. Coran had left the key for Lance to use if he needed to get into the diner in case of an emergency. Lance counted this as an emergency since Keith and him  _were_  running away from a gang fight. Bouncing back up Lance presented the key to Keith, "Plan succeeded."

"You're so lame. I can't believe I actually though you were going to do something cool," Keith sighed though his slight smile gave him away.

"Hey this is cool!" Lance unlocked the door to the diner. Keith went in first and Lance locked the door behind him again when he was in. He was met by the darkness of the diner, the lights that from outside only provided so much. "Woah, it's dark in here."

"No shit," Keith said, "there are no lights on." He moved forward towards the light switch.

"Wait," Lance grabbed his arm. "Turn on the bar lights, it'll attract less attention to the diner.  
We're on the run remember?"

"Good idea," Keith detached himself and made his way to the bar. Lance watched as he pushed himself onto the counter then slipped behind the bar. Switching on the light, a small area of the diner got doused in white light and the rim above the bar let off a red glow. Keith sent him a thumbs up that Lance returned. He went to jump back up over the bar but there was a loud bump as Keith's knee hit the edge of the counter, he stumbled backwards and a loud, " _Fuck,"_ echoed around the diner.

Lance couldn't stop his laugh as a disgruntled Keith glared daggers at the edge of the bar where his knee had been hit. "You...okay....Keith?" Lance asked in between breaths.

"Shut up," Keith scowled.

"I was only asking if you were okay," Lance wiped a tear from his face. Keith seemed to have accepted his defeat with the counter because he left the bar out the half doors the employees exited from.

Lance moved away from the door to join Keith by the bar, throwing the spare key on one of the tables. All the glasses and bottles of alcohol were illuminated by the showcase lights. "I'm fine," Keith said.

"If you want I can get out the first-aid kit, it'll be just like old times," Lance winked at Keith before turning away to the jukebox. He switched it on and the warm glow of neon lights came alive. Shoving his hands into his pockets Lance retrieved his loose change, a couple of pennies and dimes.

"What're you doing?" Keith asked. Lance glanced at him, he was leaning against the counter watching with curiosity.

"We're making our own nightclub. Music, us and no fights," Lance explained. A middle ground, in between their two sides. Where the Galra and Alteans are Keith and him were in the loophole, hidden away where they were and weren't existing. The diner lived in the space between harsh realities. Lance slid a dime into the slot of the jukebox and the inside lit up. He pressed three different buttons of the twenty-four for three different songs to play.

The Drifters'  _Dance With Me_ started, Lance turned back to Keith to see him shaking his head. "I don't dance."

Lance hadn't come all the way here for an  _I don't dance._ "You're missing the whole point of the song Keith," Lance pointed out. In two strides Lance was in front of Keith, holding out a hand with a grin. In sync with the song Lance mouthed, " _Dance with me._ "

Keith only stared down at Lance's open hand but Lance wasn't backing down. Not having seen Keith for a week mixed with just having held Keith's hand had given him even more confidence than usual. He waited patiently as the song played until Keith glanced back up at Lance, his eyes hooded behind a mess of black bangs. "Fine," he said, taking Lance's hand.

Lance didn't hesitate this time, he pulled Keith in front of the jukebox. He took Keith's other hand and guided them to rest on his shoulders then placed his own hands on Keith's waist. They started to sway along to the song. "See it's not so bad," Lance whispered. He wasn't sure why he was whispering since they were the only two in the diner anyways. He assumed part of him just wanted to keep everything confined in the space between him and Keith.

"All we're doing is moving back and forth," Keith said.

"That's what dancing is," Lance replied.

"Dancing's boring."

Lance raised an eyebrow at him. "Is that a challenge?"

"No," Keith answered but Lance had already taken it as one. Quickly he let go of Keith's waist and grabbed his hand in one motion Lance had spun him around. Keith yelped in surprise, "Lance what're—"

He didn't have a chance to finish as Lance released him again only to grab at his lower back to dip him. Lance stumbled forward a bit and almost dropped Keith but caught his footing at the last second. Keith threw his hands around Lance, his fingers dug into Lance's neck. "Don't worry, I got you," Lance said, smiling wide.

The slightly terrified look on Keith's face told Lance that he didn't believe him. "Okay I take it back," Keith said, "dancing is great. Just lift me back up and don't do it again."

"Alright, alright," Lance laughed. He lifted a dishevelled Keith back up and they started on the swaying again in silence. Just The Drifters singing the end of their song in the background. Keith wasn't looking at Lance, his eyes seemed to be glued to Lance's throat.

Lance is grateful for it. Keith is already close enough for every hair on Lance's body to stand on end. Not to mention his arms were still wrapped around Lance's neck. If Keith were to look up at him now he's not sure he'd be able to hide his feelings. His heart would come crawling out of his throat and there'd be no way to cover that up. Apart from that Lance was just glad he was with Keith, he'd missed Keith more than he would've liked to admit.  _Dance With Me_ came to an end and Jimmie Roger's  _Secretly_ flowed into it's place. It's slower and makes Lance feel like he's in a dream, the song heavy and floating around them.

"Hey Keith," Lance murmured.

"Hmm."

"Why were you avoiding me? Before tonight I mean," Lance asked. He felt a little embarrassed for asking. If Keith didn't want to hang out that was his business but Lance's own insecurities were eating away at him. He needed to know.

"I wasn't avoiding you," Keith said, his voice low. He still wasn't meeting Lance's gaze.

"Keith," Lance said, softly. It felt hypocritical that he was pushing Keith to tell him the truth when Lance'd  
been lying about who he was for almost two months now. He pushed that thought away though, he'd cross that bridge when it came. Keith's gaze moved from Lance's throat to some spot behind him.  
 _Secretly_ continued to hover around them but the two of them were within their own bubble completely, where Keith's silence dragged on.

"I was just dealing with some things," Keith mumbled, at last. "Feelings and whatever."

Lance felt himself inch closer to Keith. A little further and their chests would be pressed together. "What kinda feelings?" he asked.

Keith's gaze finally met Lance's. Keith's eyes' are strange, they were dark now in the shadows of the diner. Sometimes they shone purple, buzzing with a thousand bolts of electricity until everywhere that Keith touched him Lance felt a shock. Most of the time they remained their regular dark grey, flashing like the quick of his knife. Lance swore he'd seen storm clouds swirling in them before. Now though, Keith's eyes were verging on black in their low light. They were open wide staring into him and Lance wondered if this was what it was like when you looked into a black hole. Getting tangled up in a million lost words and stillness. Lance knew how dangerous falling into it would be but he couldn't help but get closer and closer. He let himself be pulled in.

The lights that spilled off the jukebox made half of Keith's face glow red. The light was stuck on every sharp angle and hanging around his neck, dipping into his collarbone. Lines Lance wanted to trace over with his fingers. Lance was back in Romeo and Juliet's fire fuelled wedding, dark and neon, red hearts and red lights.

"Nothing. They were nothing feelings," Keith said. Lance's eyes had ended up on Keith's lips, watching his mouth for words. "Or anything feelings but also everything. Everything feelings," Keith finished. He stopped dancing and Lance stopped with him. Lance recognized the feeling of all their surroundings freezing, just like at the pool. Frost was forming along the walls.

"Anything, everything, nothing," Lance repeated. His face inches from Keith's.

"Yeah," Keith breathed, "the anything, everything and nothing of you."

Lance felt his heart flip, Keith wreaked havoc in his chest. The moon was changing phases every second and the atmosphere was in flames.  _Secretly_ was still playing, it dripped off the jukebox and the lyrics became puddles at their feet. But every sound became a buzz in Lance's ears as his heartbeat got hooked up to an amplifier.

Keith was in front of him, Lance wondered if he'd always been so pretty. Maybe being pretty was a perk you got when your eyes could steal the light from billions of stars.

Keith was in front of him and Lance wondered whether the world would end or not if he kissed Keith. There was only one way to find that out and Lance wanted nothing more than to find out. He clutched the fabric of Keith's shirt then he closed the space between them, his eyes fluttering shut. Lance pressed his lips to Keith's and at first there was nothing. Lance was empty and Keith did nothing. The world was empty and Keith continued to do nothing. Lance was about to pull away, an explanation on his tongue.  _Anything_ to fill the space.

Then  _everything—_ a thousand explosions, the song on the jukebox had switched to Lance's final choice, every note sent out shockwaves and Keith was kissing him back. Lance's grip on Keith's waist tightened, Keith quickly responded by pulling them closer together. Their chests now pressed up against each other. Lance moved his lips with Keith's, hot and fast. One of Keith's hands had trailed up and was curling into Lance's hair which sent shivers down his spine. Keith's mouth opened and his breath was warm on Lance's lips.

Lance pushed forward deepening the kiss, he bit down softly on Keith's lip, Keith's breath hitched. Lance hummed, electricity rushing through his body. He moved his hand from Keith's waist to rest on his lower back. Pushing up against Keith, until he was in Lance's veins and the space between his bones. Earth felt millions of miles away, Lance was on a new planet entirely. The jukebox and the diner were specks. The alleyway they'd come from, the night club— _the night club_.

Everything that had led up to this moment came back to Lance all at once. The fight that had brought Keith and him to the diner. The air turned cold, their bubble popped and the jukebox's song seeped into it's place again. The moon fixed itself back on its original phase. Lance broke away from the kiss, he pushed away detaching himself from Keith.

Keith was staring at him wide eyed, his fingers touching his lips and his face flushed. Lance was  _weak_ , all he wanted to do was rush forward and cup Keith's face in his hands. Press their noses together and tell him  _everything._ All the secrets, how he felt, what he was made up of and how the universe had been created.

Except he couldn't. Keith stayed an arms length away now and Lance was aching. He'd done what he'd promised he wouldn't, he'd broken the rules and now he was in trouble. The floors were cracking and Lance was falling in with no way out.

"I," Lance managed to say but a million ways he wanted to finish the sentence all came out together all at once.

_I like you a lot._

_I think I might be falling in love with you._

_I think you should know I'm Altean you deserve to know that but I'm so fucking scared that you'll hate me and I don't think I could live with that._

Except everything mixed together ended up sounding like, "I have to go." He didn't wait for Keith's reply.

A second later Lance was out the diner door. He fumbled for his phone, about to call Hunk to pick him up. Every star whispered curses at him and his lips still stung from the kiss. His world was bursting and his skin burning from Keith's touch. He replayed the night in his mind, as he processed everything over and over again until it was memorized like a top ten billboard hit. Lance knew he was in trouble, he'd always known but now it had sunk into his skin.

Yet Lance also knew if he had the chance to do it over. To stop himself from kissing Keith he wouldn't—he wouldn't be able to. That was the worst part.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me before this chapter: yea i guess this story is following a sorta romeo and juliet kinda thing but i don't want it to be like that or mentioned ya know this is my thing and r&j was annoying 
> 
> me after this chapter: fuck it im going all in. shakspeare is my BITCH. where ever u r this is  
> my ode to u , u beautiful poetic man. i love romeo and juliet, those wild kids. 
> 
> anyways im sorry again ab the rly late update so to make it up to yall imma have another chap out tomorrow hopefully! oh also fun fact the name Malia was supposed to be a less alien form of Malocoti from the voltron comic lmao.
> 
> ps. if i spammed u w emails of an update or something im so sorry fucking ao3 keeps cutting the chaper and won't post the full thing so i keep having to redo it


	6. INTERMISSION: RED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so as promised a new chapter!   
> it's super short bc this chapter is kinda the equivalent of a instrumental song in the middle of album (ex. white by frank ocean and please be naked by the 1975) 
> 
> the chap is basically just Keith's thoughts and shit that's all. i guess an alternative chapter title would be "keith alone" lmao

A few months ago Keith had never known that boys like Lance existed. Boys who were made out of rainwater and moonlight, the ones who could send someone's whole world off their axis with a turn of their bruised knuckled hands. Boys who took care of the tides and listened to the universe when she spoke. Boys that were so good that they were filled with copious amounts of love so much so that it overflowed in them until it poured out when they spoke. Boys who could make the sun look dark.

The scariest part to Keith was how easily you could fall into boys like Lance, how they could make you look into yourself and pull at every string in your heart. That's what Lance did to Keith. He made Keith want to talk. Keith had never been good at expressing emotions, favouring a frown or clenched fists rather than words. Words were too hard, too out in the open—words were dangerous and once they started spilling Keith didn't know if he'd be able to stop them. He had his outbursts but for the most part he'd rather stay silent, if it was really bad he could always just punch away his feelings. Pushing himself until he was too tired and sore to care.

For Lance though, Keith knew he might just tell him everything if he asked. Lance was the first person since Shiro that made Keith want to talk and it was fucking terrifying. He turned Keith inside out until everything he was was on display. Lance was under his skin and filling up the hollows in his bones.

In every stretch of silence Lance was there. Lance telling Keith about his family with the widest grin on his face. Lance's face close to his as he leaned in for Keith to light his cigarette, looking almost dreamlike. Lance rambling about space until he'd turned the diner into a whole new galaxy. Lance's hand in his as Keith wrapped bandages around his knuckles. Lance's skin under his finger, tracing along the tattoos until they were growing off him and Keith wanting nothing more than to press his palm flat against Lance's heartbeat just to know what Lance had been feeling. Lance with those stupid Hello Kitty clips in his hair and Lance's laugh and Lance's smile—his genuine one, with all his teeth, the one that made Keith's heart stutter. Lance's voice in the darkness of his room as if everything he said was a secret, Keith hanging onto every word he said. _Love can come in the most unexpected place_ , Keith knew it was some YA novel type bullshit but the words kept running through his mind. Lance kept running through his mind.

And when Keith was at his worst, when all the memories were piling onto his chest and sinking him further and further into the Earth until he was six feet under, there was Lance at the diner. Red light from the jukebox illuminating his face, his hands pulling at Keith's shirt, pushing them together until their lips touched. It's embarrassing how quickly all of Keith's survival instincts had been thrown out the window because he'd kissed Lance back. All the oxygen had left Keith's body and he hadn't been sure whether to laugh or cry or both because of the surreality. He had curled a shaking hand into Lance's hair and pressed them closer together and all Keith had been able to think about was how kissing Lance was probably how it felt to kiss the stars.

Lance had pulled away almost too quickly. All the places he'd been touching Keith had turned cold as Keith had realized what'd happened. His fingers had went to his lips unconsciously, they had stung. When he'd looked back up at Lance, Keith remembered how he'd breathed in so sharply that his insides were probably peppered in papercuts. Lance had looked fucking beautiful and Keith hadn't been able to speak.

For the past week Keith had tried to push Lance away, he'd believed that there was still a chance he could get over it. Crushes were small and blooming, easy to cut away. He could forget Lance, he could move on. Lance would become a story in a fairytale book, built out of fantasies because being with Lance was as far fetched as fire breathing dragons. But in that moment—Lance, flushed, blue eyes on Keith, mouth hung open slightly with words stuck on the tip of his tongue and his touch still lingering on Keith's skin, he'd known. You can't forget about a boy who outshone the sun.

Then Lance had left, leaving Keith in the in between reality of the diner, stuck in the middle of two universes. When Keith had tried to call out for Lance to come back, to ask him where he was going—petals had come pouring out of his mouth. _Roses and freesias_ , they'd been piling up in his stomach and then they were choking him until he'd stumbled back against the bar counter. The thorns had been slashing up his throat and splitting his skin, it'd felt like a kiss. He'd looked up into the lights above the bar and let the red glow burn into his retinas and despite the fact that the diner was falling apart and how there'd been a war waging inside his chest he couldn't stop the short, spiteful shout of laughter that had escaped his lips because he'd known the song that had been playing from the jukebox. Out of the three songs Lance had picked he'd actually known this one.

Aretha Franklin had sounded like she was taunting him as _You Made Me Love You_ had continued to play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh boyy


End file.
